


If I Were a Wise Man, I Would Know My Part

by gremlinquisitor (suchanadorer)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Author Has Never Skiied in Her Life, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Happy Ending, Hypothermia, Love Confessions, Modern Thedas, Sex, Skiing, Snowed In, Wintersend (Dragon Age), cuddling for warmth, there's only one bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:09:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21823441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/pseuds/gremlinquisitor
Summary: If I were a wise man, I would know my part;Yet what I can I give him: I will give my heart- In The Bleak MidwinterSebastian knows what it's like to spend the holidays missing those you love who are no longer with you. He doesn't want that for Hawke, and so he offers to spend Wintersend with her. A perfect plan, complicated by Mother Elthina volunteering him to chaperone a skiing trip. He is surprised when Elthina offers to let Hawke go along as well, having mistaken them for a couple.Surely Hawke and Sebastian can make it through a few days in the mountains together without incident, both of them struggling with how badly they want Elthina's mistake to be reality.
Relationships: Female Hawke/Sebastian Vael
Comments: 14
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to diemarysues for quick and delightful beta reading and encouragement! <3

A breath of cool air moves over Sebastian’s legs and hands where he stands in front of the choir before the Chantry’s altar. If it’s still so chilled when it reaches him, it must be bitterly cold outside, an observation that’s quickly confirmed when he sees Hawke step out of the shadows by the door, snow dusted on her hat and shoulders, her nose red from the cold.

She gives him a shy, low wave before slipping into one of the back pews. He does his best to respond with a smile, but preparation to start singing cuts it short, and he can only see her out of focus over Elthina’s shoulder for the rest of the rehearsal. 

It’s become a habit, and one that he looks forward to: Hawke turns up at the end of rehearsal and tells him about her day, then he walks her back to her manor in Hightown. His days in the Chantry are often slow by comparison, but she listens with attention when he tells her of those he’s spoken with, those he’s helped and those he was unable to assist. 

Today, however, he has something less mundane to talk about with her. Sebastian knows too well the emptiness and grief that can appear at the prospect of spending the holidays alone. Elthina kept him busy in the first year after his family was killed, but he still felt the pang of their loss, knowing that he would never spend this time with them again. Hawke’s sister still lives, but the Grey Wardens have little time or interest in sending new recruits home for the holidays, and it’s been months since Hawke last mentioned she heard from her. Even if Hawke is used to Bethany’s absence, it will be compounded by the much fresher loss of her mother.

Elthina provided Sebastian with a distraction during that period, and he hopes to do the same for Hawke, if for a regrettably shorter frame of time. He can spend the day with her, make sure she’s not lonely; she is welcome at the Chantry and he’s sure that she would help with what they have planned. For any of this to happen, however, he has to ask her. He’s had several opportunities these past weeks, but each time the words have stuck in his throat, held back by fears of misinterpretation and a concern that even if she does want company, it’s not him. She has other friends - Merrill, Varric, Isabela - who would all no doubt be happy to keep her company through the holidays, people she would likely have more fun with. That she would choose him seems wishful thinking on his part, but if there is a season for wishes to come true, then it’s now, when Kirkwall is crusted with snow and the start of a new year is fast approaching.

The soprano soloist flits through her series of recitatives like a hummingbird, with the harpsichord and cello as the vibrant flowers she drinks from. It’s light and beautiful, but Sebastian sees only Hawke squirming in the pew and looking away when he catches her gaze.

Rehearsal ends soon after, and Sebastian spares little more than a glance and a smile for the others as he tucks his notes under his arm and hurries down the steps from the altar to go to Hawke. He doesn’t catch whatever it is Mother Elthina calls after him; surely it can wait until he returns after walking Hawke home. 

Her eyes are red and sparkling when he approaches, and he rushes to close the distance between them, crouching down beside her in the aisle to look up under where she’s tried to hide her face. “Are you alright? Did something happen?”

Sebastian doesn’t realize he’s rested his hand on top of her own until she moves to wipe at her eyes, leaving his hand on her thigh. He’s quick to pull away, fingers curling in loosely to his palm. Hawke shakes her head and gives him a watery smile.

“No, no, Sebastian. It’s fine, really. I just…” She tips her head up and blinks back the last of the tears, then looks past him at the dissipating choir. “That part that the soprano sang. I haven’t heard it in years, haven’t thought about it, but it was Mother’s favorite.”

There are no words that can be offered in moments such as these. The will of the Maker is difficult to understand, and it’s a bitter connection, that he and Hawke should have this thing in common. Sebastian pushes himself to his feet again, standing to keep Hawke hidden as the choir members make their way up the aisle to the door, or return to their rooms within the Chantry. She collects herself quickly, rubbing at her nose and raking a hand through her hair to the braid at the base of her neck. When she stands and turns to face him, her smile is steadier, all the pain he’d seen a moment before pushed down under cover again.

“Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to bring down the mood.”

He shakes his head and does his best to make his smile reassuring. “There’s nothing to apologize for. It’s a beautiful piece; she had excellent taste. It’s good that you remember her.”

Hawke quirks a brow as if she’s not quite sure she agrees with him, a tiny gesture that’s razor-sharp in its honesty, saying so many words that he recognizes only because he’s said them himself. 

_ Is it? What good does it do to remember them, if all it does is make me sad and stop my day in its tracks? What would they think of me if they saw me like this? _

Sebastian rubs at the back of his neck with one hand. There is no elegant way to change the subject, but there are happier things that he would like to talk with her about, and hopefully his offer will raise her mood.

“I wanted to ask what you’re doing for the holidays. For Wintersend. If you have any plans yet.”

Time slows down around the two of them when she focuses her gaze on him, looking him over as if his question imparts some sort of new knowledge about him. He did his best to keep the question neutral, and tells himself again that his primary concern should be making sure she has a good holiday, not making sure she spends it with him in particular. Nevertheless, he hopes.

“Nope, nothing yet,” she replies, giving a little shake of her head. “I haven’t even decorated. I was thinking I might just--” She makes a sort of coasting gesture with her hand. “Get through it, I guess. It’s just a day.”

Except it isn’t, and they both know it. Wintersend is a whole season unto itself these days, with decorations appearing and sales starting only days after Satinalia, surpassing even First Day in importance. It is impossible to walk the streets of Kirkwall and not be reminded that the holiday is fast approaching, and should be spent with family and loved ones, exchanging gifts and enjoying food and company. 

“Would you be interested in…” Her clouded gaze snaps to him again and his train of thought careens out of control. “I’ve been told I make excellent turkey with dressing. Would it be all right if I came to visit and made you dinner?” He glances away long enough to gesture behind him towards the altar. “I’ll be here during the day, handing out meals to those in need. We could always use an extra set of hands, if you’d like. I know they’d be happy to have you.”

Her eyes cut away from his to look at Elthina at the altar, then back to him. “You know what? I think I’d like that. It certainly sounds better than what I had planned.” A pause. “You’ll be here, too, at the Chantry?”

He tries his best to keep from nodding too vigorously. “Definitely. I can come get you in the morning, we could walk together.”

His stomach lightens and floats up under his ribs as a soft smile spreads across her face. “That sounds perfect. I look forward to it.”

“As do I,” he hurries to reply. His cheeks ache from grinning, but the lines in her forehead have smoothed out and she’s smiling back at him and he’s going to spend Wintersend with her.

“Sebastian! A moment, when you and Lady Hawke are finished.” Elthina’s voice slices through the heavy Chantry air and Sebastian all but flinches to hear it. Their little ritual usually includes walking Hawke home, but tonight he will not get the chance.

“It’s all right,” she says, reaching out to squeeze his arm as if she can read his thoughts. “I’ll text you when I get home. It was good seeing you, and thank you for the invitation. It’s sweet of you to think of me.”

Hawke is already moving away while she speaks, her eyes moving from him to where to Elthina must be approaching behind his back. Sebastian watches her go, wiggling his fingers in a low wave when she turns back to look at him before slipping out the door. 

Elthina coasts up beside him in a whisper of cloth and powdery perfume. “I hope things are well with Lady Hawke.”

He nods, turning his head but taking a moment longer to pull his eyes away from the door. “As well as can be expected. She’ll be joining us on Wintersend Day, handing out meals.”

She squints at him, then pulls back and tips her chin down. Sebastian’s chest tightens, and he prepares to defend his right to ask Hawke to join him when Elthina starts to speak. “We won’t be here for Wintersend this year, Sebastian. Sister Agatha and the others will be handing out meals, but you, Sister Petrice, myself… We’re going to the Vimmark Mountains with a group of children from Lowtown, to take them for a ski trip.”

Sebastian’s heart falls so heavily that he could swear it makes a sound when it lands in his stomach. He completely forgot about the trip. His agreeing to go along was very last-minute, more a matter of Elthina signing him up and telling him afterwards. He runs a hand over his face and nods, sighing. He will have to call Hawke and explain and try to apologize without mentioning that he’ll be spending the holidays at a luxury ski resort while she sits alone in her manor.

“However,” Elthina continues, one corner of her mouth curling up in an expression Sebastian’s never seen before, “given your relationship with Lady Hawke, I think we could call the resort and make arrangements for her to go along with you. Well, with us, but with you, of course. Yes,” she says, nodding more to herself than to him. “We’ll do that. I’ll contact the resort, and you should tell your Lady Hawke.”

Elthina smiles at him again and leaves without another word, her hands tucked up into the sleeves of her robes, folded in front of her. 

_ His  _ Lady Hawke. Sebastian can’t deny he likes the sound of that, incorrect as it may be. He sets a hand on the back of the nearest pew and leans hard against it as he lets the conversation wash over him. Elthina thinks that he and Hawke are a pair, and he made no effort to disabuse her of the notion.

Surely there will be time to explain between now and when they leave, but if he does that, there’s a risk that Hawke won’t be allowed to join them on the trip. 

All of this will be for naught, however, if Hawke doesn’t want to go along. Sebastian waits until Elthina disappears into the office, then pulls his phone out of the pocket of his robe, dialing Hawke’s number as he makes his way up the aisle towards his chambers.


	2. Chapter 2

Frigid, damp air hits Hawke full in the face when she steps out onto the street. She leans heavily against the Chantry door and just breathes for a moment, closing her eyes as a car whizzes past, splashing in a puddle of rain and melted snow that’s collected near the curb. The flurry that started as she was making her way here has turned to something wetter under pressure from Kirkwall’s constant indecisiveness about temperature, even at the coldest time of year.

Sebastian asked to spend Wintersend with her, and she said yes. She, Padi Hawke, will be spending Wintersend with Sebastian Vael. 

She blinks slowly, her vision shimmering into focus. The street outside is black and shining with rain, neon signs and street lights painting pools of color in the dark. Piles of dingy grey slush are heaped along the sidewalk, the remnants of what little snow Kirkwall got during the last cold snap. It’s rare that the crisp, white cold of Ferelden reaches as far north as Kirkwall. It’s one of the things she misses most, though this year the weather is overshadowed by people that she misses far more than a blanket of snow.

Mother loved Wintersend and looked forward to it for weeks heading up to the day. She decorated well in advance, baked and cooked as well as she could, sang songs, and wrapped gifts for days on end. 

Then Father died. Then the Blight came. Carver died, and Gamlen lied, and Kirkwall tried to kill them all, and more than the lack of money, more than the lack of time, there was just no energy for Wintersend anymore. The sparkle that always appeared in Mother’s eyes faded and disappeared, and when she looked at the decorated shop windows and well-dressed Chantry singers, she looked weary and sad. Moving into the manor helped, and for a while Hawke was hopeful that this year would be the first year they could have a proper Wintersend again, with a great green tree and thousands of twinkling lights, with gifts and hearty food and a house full of love. 

The realization that she would be facing Wintersend alone was a hard one to face. She pulls her phone out as she makes her way up the street, weaving between people as she opens Bethany’s email again.  _ No time off this year… training new Warden recruits… send photos of the tree… have a drink on me. _

Tears sting at the edges of her eyes when she turns the last corner towards home. The manor is a pocket of darkness on the otherwise well-decorated street. Bodhan and Sandal asked a couple weeks ago if they would be allowed to put lights in the windows. She doesn’t recall saying no, but perhaps her permission was so lackluster that they thought better of it. She doesn’t mean to spread a shadow over the day for others, but for herself, she has little cause to celebrate. 

Her phone glows to life in her hand as she’s unlocking the door. She fishes her headset out of her pocket and sets one earpiece in. “Hello, Sebastian. Miss me already?”

His chuckle is warm in her ear, and she’s glad to have the door to lean against as she makes her way inside. The hall is dark, but there are lights on further in and she can hear Orana’s voice. 

“Yes,” Sebastian replies, and Hawke bites her lip to keep some grinning, even though no one will see. “You said you’d text me when you got home.”

“I’m taking off my coat even as we speak. Would you rather I-- Here, wait.” She hangs her coat on the rack by the door and swipes through the menu on her phone.

_ Home safe. Thx for the talk. It helped. <3 _

She sends the text and hears him chuckle again when it arrives. “Thank you, Hawke. I feel much better now.”

“Then my work here is done,” she drawls. A quick peek into the main room shows Bodhan and Orana sitting in chairs by the fire with Canut curled up at their feet. Sandal is sitting at his desk in the corner, in shadow but for the lights from his enchantment work. She nods to herself, then steps lightly up the stairs, not wanting to interrupt them, and hoping to keep from being interrupted.

She’s rewarded with another laugh, but then Sebastian goes quiet on the other end as Hawke makes her way to her room.

“So,” she starts, drawing the word out. “Did you really only call to make sure I made it back through the dark and dangerous streets of Kirkwall’s Hightown?” 

There’s a cough and the sound of shifting fabric, and Hawke’s pulse jumps. The longer he goes without answering, the more she worries. Maybe she shouldn’t have joked with him. Maybe he’s calling to take back his invitation. Hawke is too much controversy to bring to the Chantry on a holiday; she’s too much local celebrity. 

In the few seconds that tick by between her question and his answer, Hawke has already mentally accepted his apology for not being able to spend Wintersend with her, and started to plan what she will say to make him feel better. 

“I wish it was the only reason I was calling,” he replies, and her heart sinks. She huffs a laugh that sounds sad even to her and prepares for the inevitable. “Mother Elthina came to talk to me after you left, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to make you dinner on Wintersend.”

“That’s OK!” Her answer comes too quickly, filled with forced brightness that leaves her cringing. “I mean, I’m sorry to hear it, but I understand. It was short notice, and I’m not really a member of the Chantry, so--”

“Hawke?” He sounds so startled that she cuts herself off, mouth hanging slightly open. She’s settled onto her bed, one pillow hugged to her chest with her legs stretched out in front of her.

“Sorry, yeah, sorry.” She shakes her head and scolds herself. She should at least let him tell her he can’t spend the day with her before she starts rationalizing it away.

“It’s all right,” he replies, some warmth seeming to come back into his voice. Of course he would move straight to comforting her. “I had another offer instead, if you’re interested.”

Her head falls to the side and she frowns at her feet, thinking through his words to make sure she heard him correctly. “Wait, won’t you be handing out meals at the Chantry?”

“Apparently not.” There’s frustration in his voice at that, and she closes her eyes to listen as Sebastian explains. “There’s a trip planned for the children’s choir to the Chateau Haine Ski Resort in the mountains. They’re mostly kids from Lowtown, Darktown, and the Chantry takes them every year so that they can have an adventure for Wintersend. Some parents come along as chaperones, and also some of us from the Chantry. This year I’m going.”

“That sounds lovely, Sebastian. I’m sure you’ll have a great time.” Hawke means it, she really does, even if her throat tightens around the words. Bodahn and Orana will be good company, and if nothing else maybe she can spend the day sleeping and pretend like it’s not a holiday. Sebastian’s obligations to the Chantry come first, most especially on such days. It will have to be comfort enough that he thought to offer at all.

“I’d have a better time if you came with me.” Hawke’s eyes flick open again but her brow is still furrowed, and she doesn’t manage a better reply than a confused sort of grunt before Sebastian starts again, his voice gone soft. “Mother Elthina said that you were welcome to come along, when I told her that I’d planned to spend the holiday with you.”

“You want me to go with you to a ski resort for Wintersend?” The idea is so romantic that she shivers, unable to suppress her delight at the idea of spending time with him there. 

She swings her legs over the side of the bed again and starts to pace the room to try to still the burst of nervous energy that springs up at his words. 

“I do,” Sebastian confirms, and Hawke bounces on the balls of her feet. “But we leave in the morning, early. I’m driving the van with all the bags and equipment. You can ride with me, if you’d like. We’ll get there before noon, spend the afternoon skiing… There’s a whole schedule, but I can tell you on the way, if you’d like to go.”

“I’d love to, Sebastian. I’m sorry about--” She stops herself, not wanting to run over him again like she did earlier. “I thought you were calling to cancel. You sounded kind of sad.”

It’s good to hear him laugh again. The relief in his voice matches the relief that floods through her at this latest turn of events. “I was worried you’d say no to going with me. I was looking forward to making you dinner.” His timbre turns dark again, and Hawke is already taking a breath to reply when he continues, now bright and optimistic. “I suppose sitting next to you at the restaurant will be the next best thing. All right. I’ll pick you up in the morning, then?”

“Yes, great. Perfect.” She nods so enthusiastically that one earbud starts to come loose. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you for calling, thank you for-- Thank you. I really appreciate you thinking of me.”

“I can think of no one else I would rather bring with me, Hawke. Sleep well, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You too. Good night.” She watches her phone as the call ends, continuing to stare at it until the screen goes dark and her wide-eyed, elated reflection stares back up at her.

“Stop it,” she says in the quiet of the room. Excited as she might be, this news only changes the setting, nothing else. Sebastian is one of her dearest friends, and while she knows that he enjoys her friendship as well, she is also sure that there will never be anything else between them. It’s something nice to dream about, but his obligations lie elsewhere, and even if they didn’t, surely his background makes her an uninteresting choice of partner. The man is a breath away from royalty, and she is little more than a refugee that did well for herself.

The sound of claws on hardwood flooring pulls her out of her reverie. Canut trots past her and hops up onto the bed, turning in circles before flopping down and resting his head on his paws. He looks up at her with big, dark eyes, one brow quirked as if wondering when she’ll be coming to join him.

“Yes, all right,” she sighs, smiling when his back end starts wiggling. “I just have to pack first.” 


	3. Chapter 3

“So, is there some sort of designated time for when they burn it down? What am I watching for?”

Sebastian chuckles and shakes his head, glancing at her for only a moment, not wanting to take his eyes off the road. The highway stretches out ahead of them, shining in the sun but dark in contrast to the snow. Ahead of them, the mountains rise along the horizon, the jagged peaks topped with white. If Wintersend is supposed to mark the change of seasons, then no one has told the Vimmark Mountains.

Hawke is holding her phone longways, brows creased and lips pursed as she stares at a camera feed of a 40-foot high goat built from hay and wood, decorated with heavy red ribbon. The only way to tell it’s a live feed is the snowflakes that drift in front of the camera. 

“No, that’s the thing,” Sebastian explains. “It’s not supposed to burn down. The  _ actual  _ tradition is the building of it, though even that’s changed during the years. It used to be set up in the middle of the square outside the Keep, with a Wintersend market around it. But two years, I think? Two years before I was born, someone burned it down in the night and the fire spread to the market. No one was hurt, but everything was ruined, so my father and the city decided to move it to where it stands now, just beyond the bridge into Starkhaven.”

Hawke nods thoughtfully. “But I’m guessing it still gets burned down, or else they could’ve moved it back.”

“My father didn’t like the idea of lowering the gates to keep people in the city just so that they didn’t set fire to it, so yes, people still found a way.” He sighs, shaking his head and smiling a little to himself. “I even know of a wild twelve-year-old boy who, at the urging of his older brothers and desperate to fit in with them, shot a flaming arrow from the city wall straight into it one year.”

Hawke shifts in his periphery, gasping with delight. “Sebastian, I had no idea your early days included acts of vandalism. I’m seeing you in a whole new light.”

The teasing is clear in her tone, and he’s glad to hear it as the bitterness of the memory starts to seep through. “Only one act, that one. Of course my father found out. ‘No one else in the entire city could’ve made that shot, so don’t even think about trying to lie to me, young man!’” His voice booms in the van when he tries to imitate his father’s anger, but when he speaks again it’s quieter. “That was one of the nicest things he ever said to me.”

This time Hawke’s sigh is sadder, and he sees her slip her phone into the pocket of her coat after one last glance at the screen. They continue the trip in silence for a while, festive music filling the van with artificial cheer. 

The morning started early after far too short a night. His nerves were raw in the sweetest sort of way after ending his call with Hawke, and it took him hours to get rid of the restless energy that sparked in him when she accepted his offer. His apprehension about the trip soon took over, and he tossed and turned as he chided himself for inviting her under false pretenses. Now every other mile that they roll past, he resolves to tell her, only to gladly continue their conversation about other things. It’s selfish, but he wants these days with her. Perhaps if he is lucky and very careful, she won’t even find out about Mother Elthina’s incorrect assumption, and he can make things right after the holiday.

They arrive at the resort after the bus carrying the children, beeping and waving when they roll into the parking lot. It’s a loud and disorganized undertaking handing out bags to their respective owners, but after some time all of the children and other chaperones are pulling or carrying their bags with them towards the main hotel. There are few other people around though the parking lot is full of cars as well as other busses. They are not the only ones to have had this idea for the holidays, but Sebastian is comforted to see it. Even if things go poorly between them, Hawke will not be completely isolated at Chateau Haine.

The clerk at the check-in offers them a frozen smile when they parade into the lobby, though it relaxes somewhat when one of the Sisters approaches with a neat stack of printed papers. Sebastian hangs back, watching as keys are distributed to children and chaperones alike. Mother Elthina approaches him and Hawke.

“They have your keys at the desk,” she explains, giving them a prim smile. “We thought you might want some privacy, so we called and arranged for a cabin nearby for you.” She hands them a map of the resort with lines drawn in blue pen from the hotel to a little house symbol set aside from the others. “Since it was such short notice, you’re in the last one they had. Apparently it’s a bit out of the way, but perhaps that is to be preferred?”

Hawke gives him a confused look as she takes the map. “Thank you, Elthina.” The words come slowly, as if she expects Sebastian to explain, but he can only look back at her. 

The crowd of children parts around them as they make their way to the desk. The man behind the counter looks from Hawke to Sebastian and smiles. “Welcome to Chateau Haine, Brother Vael, Lady Hawke.” 

Sebastian sees Hawke bite down on her smile and glance away at the name. She’s not used to it, and in a way it’s endearing, though he wishes for her own sake that she could learn to appreciate the title. 

He nods to the clerk, waiting for him to continue. “So, I see you already got your map there. Here are your keys,” he continues, sliding a little paper folder across the glass-topped counter. “Mother Elthina’s reservation included stocking the cabin with food, so there are some staple items in the fridge and pantry for you to use. No champagne and strawberries, but those are available upon request,” he adds with a wink.

Hawke takes the keys and slips them into her pocket, giving Sebastian a wide-eyed, blushing glance before turning her attention back to the clerk, who continues on as if he’s not said anything at all out of the ordinary. Sebastian does his best to listen over the dull roar in his ears of the situation getting worse and worse. Hawke will never forgive him for this, he’s sure of it.

“Slopes open at eight in the morning and close at nine in the evening, with reservation for the slopes that are prepared for evening skis and such. Those are marked on the map in purple. As your cabin is a bit out of the way, we offer cleaning services every other day, though of course you’re welcome to request them more often if something needs to be freshened up.” He explains all this with bright eyes and a rigid smile, though his tone indicates that this is not the script he follows most often. It’s likely that these cabins are less popular than simply staying at the hotel. “There is electricity, but the cabin is meant to feel rustic and so, so there’s no television or anything like that. There’s hot water, and the stove, and outlets for your phone and things, and a phone to contact us right here at the front desk. Enjoy your stay, and happy Wintersend!” 

Sebastian gives the clerk a grateful nod, then takes Hawke’s bag and hooks it over his shoulder, leaving her with nothing to carry but the keys and map as they turn to go. Somehow they seem more significant, as if they weigh more than clothes and skis and toiletries. Taking the bags seems the least he can do while he tries to figure out how to keep their trip from being ruined by his inability to communicate.

It’s nearly midday, the sun as high as it’s going to get as they make the trek to the cabin. The main hotel is set higher up on the hill, so they follow a gentle slope down to small circles of cabins, most of them quiet, their occupants likely already on the slopes. It’s a sort of mini suburbia, little cul-de-sacs of rustic Lincoln Log buildings that hang like grapes from the wider main path, a lighted pine tree in the middle of each group.

They continue past the last circle to a line of trees broken only by the path. The sounds from the hotel and cabin village falls away as they walk deeper into the woods. The path curves in a slow arc that eventually cuts their view of the rest of the world, leaving them utterly alone amidst snow and pine trees. 

Again, Sebastian considers that he should tell Hawke about Elthina’s misunderstanding, and again the words stick in his throat. She is walking just ahead of him, head swiveling from side to side, trying to take in as much of the forest as possible as they go. A small pond off to one side of the path is swallowed by shadows from the trees, but she stops to look nonetheless, tilting her head while her eyes scan the trees.

“You grew up outside the city, didn’t you?” He asks, coming to stop beside her. “This must be familiar.”

She shrugs with one shoulder and starts up the path again, walking backwards while she talks. “Lothering was a good ways away from the Wilds, but there were some woods and things. Nothing quite this deep, though. This is beautiful. It’s so quiet, it’s almost spooky.”

A branch cracks in the woods and they both startle, then laugh, her point proven by the interruption. 

A small wooden bridge arches over a frozen stream coming down from the mountains, and beyond that is a single A-frame cabin set into the trees, with high, wide windows along the front wall and an shoveled walkway up to the door. It’s larger than the ones they passed, clearly more expensive and intended to be both more luxurious and private.

Hawke unlocks the door and holds it open, and Sebastian feels her eyes on him as he passes to go inside. His cheeks are already burning at how obvious the intention seems with the cabin, and her gaze gives every indication that she’s started to catch on as well. 

She pushes the door closed behind them and clears her throat. “Sebastian, why does Mother Elthina think we need privacy? And why did that cheeky clerk suggest strawberries and champagne?”

He flinches, even though there is nothing unkind in her voice. There is a curl of curiosity, as if she already thinks she knows, but wants to hear him say it. That he would rather not say it is of no importance anymore. This is his fault, and he needs to come clean with her.

Sebastian draws a breath, busying himself with setting down the bags so that he doesn’t have to turn to face her. “Mother Elthina seems to be under the impression that you and I are a… a couple.” It doesn’t sound nearly as nonchalant and relaxed as he’d hoped it would when he says it.

“And when she told you this, you didn’t correct her?” Again, there’s something light in her voice. Sebastian wants it to be hope but knows it’s not.

His shoulders slump and he prepares to turn to face her. “No. I should have, I  _ know  _ I should have and I’m sorry. I thought that if I corrected her, she wouldn’t let you come along on this trip, and--”

“Was this after you asked me to spend the holidays with you?”

He nods, frowning at his hands instead of at her, not wanting to see betrayal and disappointment in her eyes. “I couldn’t stand the thought that I’d be here and you’d be alone, especially after I’d already asked you.”

“So, this trip, then, I guess…” She starts to form the next word, then breaks off, shaking her head and looking away. There’s a flush on her cheeks, and when she starts to speak again, she’s grinning. “Wait. We need to _pretend_ to be a _couple_?"

“I’m sorry, Hawke.” Sebastian rubs at the back of his neck and looks down at his feet. “I can take you back to Kirkwall if you’d like.”

“What? Sebastian, no, don’t be silly. This could be fun!” She smiles at him while he gapes at her, wholly unprepared for her enthusiasm at the idea. “I think it’s sweet that Mother Elthina and the others thought so much of the idea of us together that they went to this trouble.” She looks around the cabin again as if seeing it for the first time. “I would hate to disappoint them. We can always break up amicably later on or something.”

Hawke is taking the whole thing better than Sebastian could ever have anticipated, and he struggles to keep up with her, his own disappointment and frustration slow to fade, keeping him slugging while she spins plans.

She whirls around to face him, her eyes wide. “Oh! Oh, Sebastian, your vows. I promise I won’t do anything that would come between you and Andraste.”

He chuckles at her wording but waves away her concerns, even as his own start to lighten in his chest. “It’s all right, Hawke. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Good, then.” She tosses the keys onto the wide charcoal-colored couch and heads in the direction of the kitchenette, the only part of the cabin not covered in warm, deep golden wood. The white is a stark contrast, but gives a feeling of freshness that Sebastian can appreciate.

“I’m gonna make coffee. Do you want some?” She calls as she starts opening cabinets, pulling out mugs and packages.

“That would be lovely, thank you.” 

While Hawke sets to work in the kitchen, Sebastian gathers their bags and takes in the rest of the cabin. It’s beautiful, with burnished wood walls and floors, these covered in part by hand-woven rugs or faux sheepskins to add to the rustic flair. Exposed beams run above his head, framing in the chimney of the fireplace situated in the center of the cabin, a design that lets people sit on all sides and still enjoy the warmth and ambience. On the side opposite the kitchen there’s a small table with chairs, and towards the door there’s a sofa with a chaise lounge end and two wide armchairs, all straight-backed and severe, in the same dark grey color. The entire front wall is made up of windows, thick double-paned glass to keep out the cold, but no obstruction besides window frames, allowing for a magnificent view of the forest and mountains.

A set of stairs towards the back of the cabin leads to the upper floor above the kitchen. Sebastian climbs them slowly, marvelling at the attention to detail in the wooden railings and strings of lights wrapped around the banister and beams. Upstairs he finds the bedroom - one large bed set with its head against the wall at the base of the sloping ceiling, piled high with blankets and plenty of extra pillows. Beyond that is a door that leads to the single bathroom, small but still somehow luxurious, with a bathtub flush against the far wall, framed by the peak of the roof and surrounded by more of the same rich wood. The soaps and shampoos are higher end hotel quality and the towels are plush and soft, big enough to wrap around a body with room to spare. 

It is possibly the most romantic getaway he’s been on in his entire life, at least since he was old enough to appreciate the concept, and he will be spending it with the first woman to make his heart race in more than a decade, pretending to be lovers. 

His reflection looks back at him with pity. 

“This place is incredible!” Hawke’s footsteps on the stairs pull him out of his thoughts, and he turns in time to see her through the open bathroom door, cups of coffee in hand. Their eyes meet, and they both glance to the bed and then back as if agreeing that that discussion doesn’t need to happen now. For Sebastian there is no question of who will sleep where, but he’s grateful to not have to talk about it right away.

“It’s beautiful. Did you see the chandelier downstairs?” she asks, nodding back over her shoulder. “I don’t think it’s made with real antlers, but someone went to a lot of trouble to make sure that it looks like it was. All wrought iron and bone, but still somehow not brutal, you know? It’s very… Fereldan.”

“Unrefined.” They speak over each other, and Sebastian’s heart drops when he hears her suggestion. He can only hope that she didn’t hear his, but the way she quirks her brow at him tells him that he has no such luck today.

“I can’t believe we get this all to ourselves,” Hawke continues. “How can the Chantry afford it?”

“Some of our donors are very generous, and this time of year is a giving season,” he replies mildly, not wanting to admit that she’s asked an excellent question. The Chantry should not be paying for something like this, not when there are others who have needs far greater than a weekend in a cozy cabin. He resolves to check with the front desk at the next opportunity and make sure that his card is the one charged for the cabin.

“Anyway, I brought this up for you. There was no cream, just milk, and two sugars.” Hawke moves smoothly around the edge of the bed, holding the coffee out as she goes. “I thought I’d let you get changed so that we can head out. I’ve already got on the warmest clothes I own, so I’ll just wait downstairs.”

He takes the coffee with a grateful smile, careful to look into her eyes and not glance at the bed again. Even at the manor, the only time he came anywhere near this proximity of Hawke and a bed at the same time was when she was recovering from the Arishok’s attack. For days she was unconscious, deathly pale where she wasn’t bruised, healing happening too slowly even under Anders’ care.

That memory alone is enough to cool the heated thoughts that started to form in his mind, and he holds the coffee mug in his hands until they ache. “Thank you, Hawke. You’re right, we should probably head out soon. I’ll be down as soon as I can.”

She smiles and nods, hip jutting out to one side as she maneuvers around the bed again. He watches until she disappears down the stairs, then sinks down onto the bed. All in all, she took it well, even seeming to enjoy the idea of playing pretend. He’s glad, but as he sips the coffee, he tries to still his own heart and remind himself that these days will be a ruse and nothing more. No matter what happens, he must not take it too seriously, lest he hurt Hawke, or lose her friendship entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just *clenches fist* love Gävlebocken so much, I had to give it to someone in Thedas!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Please come say hello on [my tumblr](http://gremlinquisitor.tumblr.com) if you're there! :)


	4. Chapter 4

She can’t deny that he looks impressive in his outfit. His parka is blue and grey, matching the dark ski pants, but his gloves, boots, hat, and scarf are all a brilliant white that matches the snow outside. It doesn’t help her feel less out of place in her long underwear, jeans, and regular winter coat. This whole thing is so far beyond the life she’s used to living that she’s not sure where to start. Of course Sebastian owns his own ski equipment, and of course he knows how to use it.

“You really can go without me, it’s fine,” she says, reassuring him for the third time since he’d come down the stairs prepared for the slopes.

“And leave you on your own all day?” He gestures around them. “No, I won’t do that.”

“I can go… watch the kids, or hang out with the Sisters, or…” Her lack of enthusiasm is audible even to herself. Try as she might, she can’t get excited about the idea of spending the day with buttoned-up Chantry Sisters watching children fall over and over again. She probably wouldn’t even be allowed to laugh at them.

Sebastian looks down at himself, then back to her. “We’ll find something else to do, I’m sure of it.”

He leans his skis against the wall again, holding his hands out when it looks like they’re going to slip. Apparently satisfied with their placement, he pulls out one of the chairs around the small dining table and starts taking his ski boots off. His other winter boots stand by the door where he’d left them when they came into the cabin.

“Sebastian, this is a  _ ski resort, _ ” she reminds him as he settles onto the chair. She wraps her arms around herself and digs at the floor with her heel. 

She hadn’t anticipated that this trip would be all smooth sailing, but it was quite the bomb he dropped on her when they got to the cabin. In a way it’s sweet, almost flattering that Mother Elthina and the others have the wrong idea. If she’s honest with herself, she can’t say that she minds, at least not for her own sake. Her feelings for Sebastian moved past friendship some time ago, but he already has a woman in his life, and while Hawke isn’t one to deny her own appeal, there is no competing with Andraste. The misunderstanding has put Sebastian in a rather awkward position, but if going along with it means that he saves face with Elthina, then she’s happy to play a part in the charade. It does, however, make her nervous to spend so much time out of sight of the rest of the group. In her experience, devotion to the Maker does not include a vow of silence, and hearing the occasional confession leaves some of them that much more prone to gossip.

“That it is,” he replies, “but if that’s really all they have to do here, then it’s a poor excuse for a vacation spot.”

He returns to her side, unencumbered by his skis and boots. She’s quick to grin, looking more confident than she feels when he smiles at her from under his goggles and makes a quick half-bow-half-wave in the direction of the door.

“You really can ski if you want,” she says, turning to keep her eyes on him when he goes to put on his boots.

“Not if you’re not going to. We’ll find something to do once we get up there, I’m sure. There’s more than one way of getting down the mountain.”

They head out and follow the signs towards the ski lifts, and again and again Hawke finds herself following the thin black lines that cut across the sky, dotting with tiny little seats for tiny little people. It’s not the first time she’s considered it, but somehow the sight drives home that they are at the bottom of large mountains, and will be quickly whisked away to somewhere much closer to the top. 

There’s a bit of a line when they get to the lifts, and Hawke watches with nervous interest as pairs of people fall back onto the benches and are carried up to the top of the slopes. One more experience she’s never had, and one she’s suddenly very concerned about getting right. It looks easy enough, which gives it plenty of potential for her to underestimate it and fail miserably. Images of her hanging on for dear life or being run over by one of the chairs flit by in her mind as they step up to take their spot. A perky attendant explains how its supposed to work, but Hawke barely listens, distracted by her own thoughts and the sensation of Sebastian’s hand at the small of her back, guiding her to where she needs to stand.

“Three, two, one, now.” The bench hits the back of her legs and she sits automatically, grabbing at his coat and arm as the chair keeps moving, whisking them up and away from the snowy ground. Sebastian pulls the safety bar down around them and leans in close to her.

“Are you all right? I didn’t take you to be one afraid of heights.”

She shakes her head, her eyes fixed on his chest so that she doesn’t have to look down. “Heights are fine. It’s falling that’s the trouble.”

His amused huff of a breath is warm and calm, more than anything she’s feeling at the moment. Part of her almost wants to hear mockery in his laugh, but she knows it’s not there. He pulls his arm out of her grip and wraps it around her shoulders instead, bringing his other hand across to hold her upper arm.

“You’re not going to fall. We’re perfectly safe up here, and even if we weren’t, I’ve got you.”

He squeezes her in a quick hug and she stays where he’s pulled her in against his side. Her fear is real enough that she can let herself get away with this without feeling more than a twinge of fresh guilt. 

Her larger, slightly older guilt comes from how quickly she’d realized what needed to be done to keep up appearances on this trip, and how happy the idea made her. She all but leapt at the chance to even pretend to be his for a few days, and she hopes her enthusiasm wasn’t uncomfortable for him. 

“Come on,” he continues, rubbing his hand along her arm. “Have a look. The view is spectacular.”

She takes a breath so deep that she can smell his aftershave through the cold air. It’s hard to imagine that anything could be more spectacular than the sight of Sebastian in the sunshine, the light setting fire to the otherwise hidden shift of red in his hair, his eyes a deeper blue than the sky around them, bronze-skinned and pink-cheeked from the cold. He’s looking away from her towards the mountains, and so she tries to follow his gaze and look out over the slopes. 

He’s right; it’s breathtaking. The sky is a deep unmarked blue that fades to a lighter shade where the trees and mountains stretch up to reach it. The pines are dusted with snow, their green so deep it looks almost black against the white around them. Between swathes of trees, she can see slopes dotted with people. Most of them are on skis, but some are on snowboards, swaying and gliding as they make their way down to the bottom. She thinks she sees the Chantry group at the end of the lift, a clump of small forms with some taller people interspersed among them.

“It’s beautiful,” she sighs, smiling almost in spite of herself. Her fear isn’t gone, but it’s settled at the bottom of her stomach, fading in comparison to her wonder at the view and the sensation of Sebastian’s arm around her. He’s convinced that they’re safe up here, and while she is not as certain about the chair lift, she can’t deny that she feels safe at his side.

“If you like it that much, we could just spend the day riding the lift,” he offers, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. His grin is mischievous, but it’s on the tip of her tongue to accept the suggestion. Far from Chantry Sisters and children, his arm around her, all his attention for her alone? She could almost forget the amount of nothing between her feet and the ground below.

“Probably shouldn’t,” she sighs, overdoing her sadness a little to make him smile again. “I imagine they’d look at us funny the third time around.”

“I suppose you’re right.” His arm disappears from around her and she moves to sit up straight as the ground seems to rise up to meet them. “OK, you’re gonna want to start walking as soon as you feel the snow under your feet,” Sebastian explains as the top of the slopes approaches. “Straight ahead and then turn to get out of the way of the lifts, ok?”

Hawke nods, not turning to look at him, all her focus on the well-worn track ahead of them. She almost forgets to let go of the safety bar, her arms lifting when Sebastian swings it up out of the way, then she’s stepping away, Sebastian’s hand at her back again, guiding her away from the lifts and towards the crowd of children and chaperones.

“Sebastian, Hawke, how good that you’re here.” Mother Elthina balanced on a pair of skis will definitely go down as one of the strangest sights Hawke has ever seen. For a woman of her age, she looks nimble enough, but Sebastian hurries over to meet her when she starts to shuffle towards them.

“Settling into the cabin took longer than anticipated. My apologies, Revered Mother.” Sebastian’s nod borders on a bow, and Hawke glances at him out of the corner of her eye, hoping the same sort of reverence isn’t expected of her.

“Not a problem, Sebastian. This is meant to be a vacation, is it not?” Her smile appears genuine enough below her mirrored goggles. “Some of the children are hesitant about the ski slopes. We thought perhaps they might be more interested in the tube park.” She points past them with one of her ski poles, and Hawke looks back to see signs marking a path through a clump of trees. “We were rather looking forward to spending some time on the slopes today, but I see that neither of you are wearing skis…?” 

The end of her statement turns up into a question, but Hawke is already nodding. It only occurs to her after a moment to check with Sebastian.

“We can do that, right? Take the kids tubing?”

Sebastian lifts his goggles up onto his forehead and looks back at her with wide, startled eyes. 

“I mean, of course, sure. If you’d like to, then we can do that.”

She can see her smile reflected back in his goggles, and in Elthina’s as well. It matches her mood; the prospect of going tubing is something she hadn’t even considered when she agreed to go on this trip.

Elthina waves her arm and calls to the kids. Those who are interested start to collect around Hawke and Sebastian. It’s a small group, only five or six, but they’re as enthusiastic about it as Hawke feels, bouncing on the balls of their feet and grabbing at their hands to start to pull them along the path.

“Hawke, I have to admit, I have no idea what we’re going to go do right now.”

He keeps his voice low when he says it, but something about the confession is adorable, and a laugh bubbles up inside her. For all the time that they’ve spent together, she can sometimes forget that they had very different starts in life. The humble Chantry Brother she’s so fond of now grew up in luxury she could never imagine, and while she might live in a manor in Hightown these days, her childhood was spent in the countryside with little in the way of luxuries.

The pines open up around them and they find themselves at the top of a series of neatly carved slopes, sprayed with water to make them icy and smooth with round bumpers of snow between them. At the far side of the row of slopes, a long line of people are being hauled up on a zipline, their innertubes clipped on to let them ride up to the top.

“We’re going to go tubing, Sebastian. It’s like sledding, but with a, well, a tube.” She gestures to the crowd at the top waiting to go down. Most have brought their tubes with them from the bottom, but there are also piles of them off to one side, and the kids rush past them to each grab their own, squabbling over colors and sizes. 

“Oh.” She watches Sebastian as he looks around, and can all but see the understanding growing in his eyes. “So it’s called that because they look like innertubes?”

“Well, these ones, yeah, but I grew up on a farm. We used actual innertubes.” She turns away from him to start looking over the piles. “Hopefully these won’t have valves sticking out of them. You go over a bump and land on one of those, you’re gonna feel it.”

Hawke sets off towards the piles of tubes with Sebastian at her heels. It takes a little digging, but she finds one made for two people, blue and green in the shape of an 8 with handles on either side as well as in the middle. 

“Kids!” She calls when she sees them all spreading out and pushing to be first. “We’re all gonna go down together, get over here.”

They listen to her without complaint, lining up around Hawke and Sebastian, or as much as they can when encumbered by their own tubes. It’s more obedience than she expected, but that pleasant surprise is quickly superseded by Sebastian calling for all of them to hold hands to stay together, and then grabbing Hawke’s free hand with his own. 

“You’re not going to lose me, Sebastian,” she remarks, biting down on her smile in the hopes that it looks playful and not as joyful as she feels. 

“Of course I’m not,” he replies, swinging their hands a little between them. “I’ve got your hand.”

“That you do.” She nods, squinting into the sun in a desperate effort to regain control of her face. They are the only chaperones there; there is no reason for him to go to such an effort to show the children that they’re a couple. Kids don’t generally care, as far as Hawke’s aware, but that’s not stopping Sebastian from going all in with the ruse. 

The line moves quickly, and before long they’re at the front. The children each go to their own lane, flopping down gracelessly onto their tubes and waiting for the attendants to come give them a nudge to start them down the hill. Hawke sets the double tube on the snow and settles onto one side. She lets go of Sebastian’s hand only reluctantly, watching him while he looks down at the tube with his head cocked to one side.

“Will this really hold me?”

“Only one way to find out,” she replies, leaning over and patting the far side of the tube.

The children were unselfconscious in their flopping down onto the tubes, but Sebastian lowers himself down with care, as if genuinely concerned that it might pop underneath him or send Hawke flying. Neither happen, and after a moment’s adjustment he’s sitting about as comfortably as he can. His hand finds Hawke’s again on the shared handle in the middle, only to grab on beside her hand instead. 

“What are the arches for?” He asks, nodding towards the slopes. Sets of arches arc over each lane, several of them set out irregularly on the way down.

“That’s for night tubing,” the attendant explains. “There’s lights strung on them, and we have lights over there, too. There’s music and bonfires at the bottom. We’ll be doing it every night this week if you want to check it out.”

Hawke is already looking to Sebastian to see if he’ll agree to go along, but she doesn’t get a chance to ask before the two of them are pushed forward and into the lane. 

They pick up speed immediately, snow spraying up around them to sting at what little skin Hawke has exposed to the cold. She whoops along with the kids when the tube coasts over a bump, her stomach swooping from the jump as well as from Sebastian’s sudden grip on her hand when they land and continue.

“Maker’s breath!” He calls out, and she can only nod back, her gaze moving from him to the bottom of the hill and back. He’s got his goggles on again, but his hat is tucked into one pocket, leaving his hair to be whipped around as they slide. There are two more hills, and he shouts both times, his chest heaving by the time they skid to a stop on the bare rubber mats laid out at the bottom. 

The kids are already collecting their tubes and running to the zipline to head to the top again. Hawke stands first and stretches a hand out to Sebastian, watching as he tries and fails to push himself to his feet on his own. 

“Come on, let me help,” she insists, gesturing again with her hand. This time he accepts, grinning at her as he clasps her wrist. 

Hawke hauls him to his feet, stepping back as she does so. The edge of the rubber mat is turned up in the snow and her heel hits it unevenly. It’s not much, but enough for her to stumble. Sebastian pulls her close, a reaction that leaves her half-pressed against his chest his with other hand on her upper arm. Her heart all but comes loose in the moment, leaping into her throat and hammering at her ribs, her blood so loud in her ears that she almost doesn’t hear Sebastian talking to her.

“You all right, Hawke?” 

She leans away from him, nodding numbly as she tries to brush her hair out of her eyes with her mittened hands. It’s unsuccessful, but then Sebastian is there again, his glove already off, combing bits of hair behind her ear. His touch is cool, chilled by the air and also because her face and ears are burning with embarrassment.

“Maybe next time, let me flail about like a turtle until I get up on my own.” He’s laughing, and Hawke is relieved to hear it, even as she quietly wishes for a sinkhole to open up in the snow and swallow her.

“I’m normally more graceful than that,” she mutters as she bends down to collect the tube.

“And stronger as well,” Sebastian adds, plucking the tube out of her hands. “There’s no accounting for uneven terrain, though. It looks like we’re going to be the last ones up the hill. Shall we?”

The day continues on for them on the tubing slopes. The children are inexhaustible, stopping only when Sebastian insists that they need to eat so that they can have more energy to keep going.

“They have a rehearsal scheduled for tonight after dinner,” he explains to Hawke as they make their way back to the lodge, the kids running ahead of them. “I doubt they’ll be back out after that, but they don’t need to know that.”

“Rehearsal?” 

He nods then turns to look ahead of them. She looks as well; he must be watching the kids as the cabin village and hotel come into view, lights winking on as sunset spreads over the lower parts of the resort. “They’re here for Wintersend to relax, but also to give a concert on the day, in the hotel. From what I’m told, it’s usually well-attended and appreciated.”

Someone waves ahead of them and the children shout replies. A few more steps, and Hawke sees that Mother Elthina and the Sisters are walking with the rest of the group. He raises one hand to wave back, and Hawke reaches out to catch his other hand, not wanting them to turn and see the pair of them looking anything less than a real couple. Sebastian startles and pulls his hand from her grip. 

“Sorry,” she says, taking her hand back. “I just thought, if they’re going to see us--”

“No, you’re right, I just-- It was a pleasant surprise, that’s all,” he explains, reaching for her hand again. “I’m not used to it.” He squeezes her hand with quick reassurance. 

They walk hand in hand to the hotel, Sebastian’s feet barely touching the ground as they follow the trail of children and Chantry Sisters to the restaurant on the first floor. The resort has different levels of luxury for those willing to pay for them, and in this case the Chantry’s coffers allowed for a family-style restaurant with a long buffet table running through the middle. A collection of tables off to one side are marked as reserved, and the hostess is already leaving Elthina and the others when Hawke and Sebastian make their way in.

The Chantry Sisters eye the two of them with various expressions of wide-eyed curiosity and narrow, sharp scrutiny. Hawke thinks he hears one of them sigh wistfully when he pulls Hawke’s chair out of her and helps her with her coat. 

“Sit,” Sebastian offers. “I’ll be back with something for you in a moment.”

Hawke looks from him to the table and back again. “It’s a buffet. I can go, it’s fine.”

He fixes her with a look that’s equal parts serious and mischief, one eyebrow raised and a glint in his deep blue eyes. “As I recall, my initial offer to you was that I would make you dinner. At least let me do this.” 

Her cheeks go warm, and she nods, watching him go before turning back to face the rest of the group. A couple Chantry Sisters give her knowing looks, and she has to fight to keep from sliding down into her seat to disappear under the table. It’s gratifying in a way, to know that their charade is working, and also to see so clearly that she is not the only one who appreciates Sebastian. 

The children chatter about their day, asking questions to the Sisters and Mother Elthina, clearly more comfortable with their company than any of them are with Hawke. Sebastian’s arrival is announced by two little boys greeting him loudly. A moment later he’s at Hawke’s side, setting a plate of sliced turkey and mashed potatoes in front of her with exaggerated care.

“My lady,” he says as he settles into his seat beside her. “I hope everything’s to your liking.”

A quick look at the plate tells her that it will be. Apart from turkey and potatoes, there’s gravy and peas somehow still brilliantly green despite the time of year. There are carrots and spinach and just about any food that she’s ever mentioned enjoying, as if he’s kept some sort of list composed entirely of tipsy rants at the Hanged Man.

“Thank you, Sebastian, it looks perfect.”

They start, and before long the lull of conversation takes over, but throughout dinner Hawke never stops being aware of Sebastian at her side, laughing at her jokes and refilling her glass, his arm slung casually over the back of her chair when he’s finished eating. It’s so simple and honest that no one thinks to question it, and Hawke is more than happy to go along with it. It will be a memory soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Please come say hello on [my tumblr](http://gremlinquisitor.tumblr.com) if you're there! :)


	5. Chapter 5

He can’t recall the last time he had such a good day. The morning held little promise, and he felt like a proper ass by the time they got to the lift chairs. The Sisters in the Chantry come from varied means, and the children they brought with them have come here explicitly because they can’t afford such a vacation on their own, but it’s so easy for him to forget that Hawke hasn’t always been the owner and resident of the Hawke Estate in Hightown. Her start in Kirkwall was humble, to say nothing of the life she held in Lothering before her family fled. He would’ve gladly paid to rent equipment for her and spent the day showing her how to use it, but the idea of suggesting it felt patronizing and pompous, and so he said nothing. The situation resolved itself quickly enough once they got to the top of the lifts, but he would gladly have spent the day beside her on a cold, hard bench, watching her take in the view of the mountains and trees, and feeling her pressed against his side. It was unnecessary for them to be so close with no one around to see, but she was nervous and he was more than happy to hold her if it made her feel safe. That his heart was soaring far above the mountains while they took the lift is a joy he will never tell her of, and a trouble he will keep to himself. 

It’s not until they’re at the door to the cabin that he remembers what awaits them inside. Hawke steps away from the door and stoops to start untying her boots while Sebastian unzips his coat and scans the open space for somewhere he can sleep.

Hawke stands, sighing and stretching before toeing out of her boots. She shrugs out of her coat and hangs it on a hook by the door, then turns to look at him. “Sebastian, what is it?”

He shakes his head to try to brush her off. “It’s nothing. Just got lost in a thought, that’s all.”

She doesn’t look convinced when she moves past him, but she doesn’t push. The authentic experience of the cabin means that it’s gotten cold while they were out, and she blows on her hands as she collects the sweater she left draped over the couch, wrapping it around her as she crouches in front of the fireplace and starts working to get a fire going.

“Did you want coffee or anything?” He hangs up his own coat and snow pants, leaving his boots by the door to dry. He’ll need to start the stove to boil water if she says yes, and it’s something to keep his hands busy and keep his mind off the approaching end of the evening.

“Tea would be nice, or-- Oh! Do we have stuff to make hot chocolate?” The fireplace crackles to life and she shuffles across the room to stand beside him, her hands hidden inside the ends of her sleeves where she hugs herself to keep warm. 

“I’m not sure,” he admits. He’s about to suggest she look when she starts, popping up onto her toes and opening the cupboard doors with hands still wrapped in sweater sleeves.

She finds mugs, chocolate bars, and milk, but only one spoon. “You don’t mind sharing, do you?” She asks over her shoulder as she crouches to dig a saucepan out of the lower cupboards. 

They’ve been here one day and already Hawke is moving through the kitchen as if she’s lived here for years. There’s something unexpectedly domestic to the image of her standing in front of the stove, one foot resting on top of the other to keep warm while she snaps a chocolate bar into pieces and drops it into the pan. It warms something deep inside him, and he finds himself both wanting to join her and unwilling to interrupt the scene. 

“So.” Every way he can think of to form the statement he wants to make seems too forward, the words sticking to his teeth as he tries to choose ones that don’t make it sound like he’s been contemplating the idea of being in the same bed as Hawke. “I can take the couch. Later. Tonight, I mean. When we’re sleeping.”

She turns away from the stove at that, taking the saucepan with her to the counter where the mugs are waiting. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s already cold in here. It won’t get warmer in the middle of the night.”

“Hawke--”

“Sebastian.” She sets the empty pan on the counter and nods towards his mug, wrapping her hands around her own. “You’re kind to even offer it, but the bed is huge. It has at least a dozen pillows and again as many blankets. Have you felt the comforter?” She nods away in the direction of the bedroom, something like a flush across her cheeks. “I’ve never felt a comforter that warm, and it’s also enormous. We won’t even know the other one is there. Unless…” Her playful smile falling away to something more stony. “Are you worried I’m going to try something while you’re sleeping?”

He gapes, unable to find words to protest against the idea. There is no good way to explain that his greater concern would be that lying so close to her would affect him to the point that she would notice. Before he can formulate a response, she’s giggling, her head fallen to one side as she watches him.

“Whatever you think might happen, it won’t,” she reassures him. “We’re both adults. I think we can negotiate a bed for a couple nights so that we can both get a good night’s sleep. After today, I think we’ll need it.”

He looks down at the cocoa in his hands and laughs under his breath. She is a force to be reckoned with, and to continue to protest would only lead to more prodding that he’s not sure he can stand up to. “All right, then. But if you’re at all uncomfortable, you must tell me. I’ve already asked too much of you on this trip.”

He anticipates more disagreement from her, but she only shakes her head and takes another sip of her cocoa. Sebastian tries it; it’s surprisingly creamy given the sparse supplies, and he smiles and lifts the mug in her direction without saying anything. She nods, and he’s relieved, though only a little. 

There’s a tension in the air that fails to dissipate as they drink their cocoa and make their way upstairs. Hawke heads to the bathroom first, leaving Sebastian staring at the bed and trying to figure out a way for Hawke to rest comfortably without him coming anywhere near her.

“Your turn,” she calls out when she emerges, changed into a pair of loose grey shorts and a worn t-shirt with a Red Iron logo on it in chipped screenprint. It’s far less clothing than he’s used to seeing her in, and he nods and moves past her without a word, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

The bathroom is the only part of the cabin separated from the main area. Here, the charming rustic authenticity is banished in favor of modern accommodations, including hot water direct from the tap and plenty of electrical outlets. Sebastian washes and changes quickly, folding his clothes and setting them off to one side next to Hawke’s pile. He takes a deep breath, hand on the doorknob, then goes out to the bedroom.

Hawke is settled on the far side of the bed, blankets drawn up and a book in her lap that she closes and sets aside as soon as she sees him. She scoots down further, pulling the fluffy comforter up around her.

“Adults, Sebastian,” she sighs when he hesitates at the side of the bed. “We can do this, come on. You need sleep to deal with the kids tomorrow.”

She’s right, and he is exhausted, but is precisely that they are both adults that worries him. There is nothing stopping them from doing what they like, but what he would like and what she would like are not the same at all. 

The sheets are cool, and the comforter is as soft and warm and Hawke described. She clicks off the lamp on her side of the bed and the room falls to near darkness, lit only by the fireplace below and moonlight from the window over the bed.

“Good night, Sebastian.”

“Good night, Hawke,” he says into the darkness. 

She rolls onto her side away from him and Sebastian does his best to concentrate on anything other than the brief glimpse he caught before he closed his eyes. Even with the bulky comforter, he could still see the curved line of her side and hip beside him, and the longing that flares in him is two-fold. He wants her, to touch and feel and use this bed for something much more interesting than sleeping, but he also wants to be with her, to wake up in the morning to her smile and to know that she feels the same way he does. 

It takes hours for him to fall into a fitful sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Please come say hello on [my tumblr](http://gremlinquisitor.tumblr.com) if you're there! :)


	6. Chapter 6

Hawke wakes early, sharp morning light on her face from the skylight above them. She sighs, blinking and stretching without sitting up.

Her hand brushes against soft hair when she brings her arms back down to the pillows, and she pulls away as if burned, not wanting to wake Sebastian where he rests beside her.

She holds her breath as she turns onto her side, slipping her arm back under her pillow. Sebastian is still sleeping, resting on his back with one arm on his chest, the other thrown over his head. His face is smoothed by sleep, no lines in his forehead or around his eyes, and there’s a shadow of stubble along his jaw, dark over the warm golden brown of his skin. His eyes are still, long lashes fanned out above his cheeks. He’s beautiful, and her fingers twitch as she fights the urge to reach out and trace his brow, follow the regal line of his nose or the full curve of his lips.

Her chest aches, and after a moment of indulging herself in watching him sleep, she turns again, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The best way to avoid falling for temptation is to move out of range of it, which means heading into the bathroom to start her day. Some time to herself is just what she needs to stomp down on these feelings and push through another day together with him.

The shower is luxurious, and she spends longer than she means to, massaging her neck and scalp and scrubbing her skin until she’s pink from head to toe. She leaves the bathroom to find the bed empty and more or less made, and the sounds and smells of breakfast rise to meet her from the lower floor. She dresses quickly, twisting her hair into a damp bun as she makes her way downstairs.

“Good morning! You didn’t want to shower before food?”

Sebastian turns at the sound of her voice. Past him she sees frying pans with bacon and eggs, and a press filled with coffee waiting on the counter island.

“I prefer to make breakfast first,” he replies, taking up one of the pans to start putting bacon onto plates. “I used to wash first, but there was a morning when I was tasked with taking confessions, and someone complained that it was distracting that the confessional smelled of fried sausage. Ever since, I cook first, then rinse the smell off.”

He doesn’t make it to the end of the story without laughing, and Hawke is relieved; there’s no way she could’ve kept from laughing at him while he told it. She’s glad to see him smile. He seems more relaxed than he was the night before, and it’s a relief. 

Breakfast goes quickly, and Hawke washes the dishes while Sebastian takes his turn in the shower. He reappears dressed in a sweater almost the same color as the couch, along with black thermal leggings. Hawke knows and reminds herself that they’re for wearing under his ski pants, and that she had on a similar pair yesterday, but that doesn’t stop her from stealing glance after glance at the unexpected sight, taking in muscular thighs and calves as well as the curve of his ass.

“So, I know yesterday I didn’t really want to, but I was thinking: Do you think you could teach me to ski today?” She has to focus her attention on one of the beams above them so that she doesn’t see her staring, a blush on her cheeks and neck from looking at him, as well as asking about lessons for the day.

“I’d like that. Yes, of course, if you’re sure.” His reply comes after a moment, and she can hear the smile in his voice, her mind conjuring the image of him looking at her with softly creased brows, one corner of his mouth turned up. 

She tips her chin down to meet his gaze and his expression is exactly as imagined, full of warmth and wonder, and just a little curiosity as to what might have changed her mind.

“I’ll need to rent, well, everything, I suppose,” she continues, gesturing towards his skis where they rest near the door.

Sebastian nods. “We can take care of that at the hotel, I’m sure. Skis, poles, boots... “ He casts around, looking from side to side. “Do you have snow pants? You had jeans on yesterday.”

“No, just more jeans,” she answers, swallowing down the surprise that he’d bothered to note and remember what she was wearing. “I promise to be very careful not to fall.”

And she is. Sebastian helps her with sizing and briefly tries to pay until she shuts him down with a glance. They make another trip on the lift with his arm around her shoulders, then spend the morning working on the basics. Hawke’s concern that she would be clumsy or inflexible disappears quickly; Sebastian is a patient teacher, and his demonstrations give her plenty of opportunity to watch him. By the time they decide to break, she’s managing all on her own, her only reluctance coming from being far and away the tallest one on the bunny slope. Sebastian and the Chantry Sisters acting as chaperones to the children stay nearby. They’re clearly more at ease in the snow than she is, but Sebastian catches her at the end of each trip down the hill, and she finds she can’t be bothered to be embarrassed when he’s cheering on her progress and smiling at her.

It’s late in the afternoon when they make their way back to the hotel to return her rented supplies. The weather has started to turn, heavy clouds looming low above the mountains and wind rustling the trees around them, shortening their day with the promise of more snow.

The lobby and seating areas at the front of the hotel and lodge are filled with families and children, most of them not from their group, though some are clustered around Mother Elthina at the far end of the bar where she’s handing out mug after mug of cocoa.

“You’re quite the natural, Hawke.” Sebastian runs a hand through his hair, the nape of his neck still damp from their day on the slopes.

She ducks her head at the compliment and shrugs one shoulder. “I couldn’t fall; I wasn’t wearing pants for it, so I had to do well.” His words of praise land like drops of light and leave her glowing as they make their way past the bar towards one of the other areas, following the sound of disorganized, youthful singing.

“Oh, prophet’s laurel.” As soon as the words are out of her mouth she regrets them. Sebastian stops in the doorway, not tilting his head as his eyes roll up from her face to the bundle of leaves hanging over his head.

There’s a tradition around prophet’s laurel, a reason people hang it in doorways or from ceilings this time of year. Her cheeks go warm as she waits to see what Sebastian will make of it. She won’t push if he doesn’t. Mother Elthina is in the next room, but that doesn’t mean she sees them, or that she would care either way. In all likelihood, she’d probably prefer it if Hawke and Sebastian weren’t a couple.

“People are watching,” he mutters. “We should probably--”

“Yeah.” She’s nodding too much, too quick and jerky for something so casual. If they really are a couple, then a quick kiss should be no big deal. “Yeah, you’re right, we should.”

His hand is even warmer than her skin when he cups her jaw, holding her still when he leans in and kisses her. A soft huff of breath moves over her skin in the moment before his lips meet hers, and she tilts her head up to catch him. She starts to set her hand on his chest, but it feels wrong, too obvious a move, so she moves to his arm, but it’s still not what she wants. 

He solves the dilemma for her, grabbing her hand in his own and twisting their fingers together, lowering their joined hands down to their sides. He smiles against her mouth and she responds in kind, drawing a breath when he catches her lower lip between his own before pressing in, bumping his nose against hers to angle their heads for a closer fit.

She swipes the tip of her tongue across his lips, and he opens his mouth to meet her, deepening the kiss. It’s warm and sweet, and a tiny sound of pleasure escapes her throat. Sebastian huffs a laugh that breaks the kiss, then moves away enough to look at her. His eyes are dark, and she’s sure that hers are too.

His thumb drags along her cheek, and she gives into it, her eyes fluttering closed as she leans into the touch, squeezing his fingers and wishing with all her might that this could be real, that he could mean any of what just passed between them.

“Oh, hello Sister Petrice! You’re looking well. How was your day on the slopes?” 

He lets go of her and turns away with such speed that Hawke sways where she stands, lurching back to reality as Sister Petrice approaches them. 

“It was bracing, Brother Sebastian. Thank you for asking.” She turns her gaze to Hawke and there’s nothing but cynicism and mockery in her eyes. “What about the two of you? I heard something about innertubes?”

“I’m going to get a drink.” Hawke lowers her eyes and spins on her heel, heading off towards the bar without waiting for either of them to respond. She thinks she hears Sebastian call after her, but she can’t look back. She needs to get a hold of herself before she can face him again. Her longing for him feels like it’s etched into her features right now, as if there’s a neon sign over her head that reads “I have a crush on you” in glowing letters.

She and the bartender exchange nods as he makes his way over. “Fereldan coffee, please.” He nods again and sets about making the drink while Hawke fights the urge to drum her fingers on the counter top. It won’t make him go faster, and her frustration is not with the time it’s taking to make her drink. 

He slides the glass mug across the bar, and she pays and thanks him absent-mindedly, already looking for somewhere out of the way to sit so that she can think for a while. Sebastian hasn’t followed, and that’s somehow both a relief and an irritation at the same time. He is supposed to be her boyfriend, and yet he’s showing no interest in what she suspects was her obvious distress. At the same time, she is only here at all thanks to a mistake. She has no right to his time, especially not when he’s with Chantry colleagues and friends. That she wants more of his time than he is willing to give her is not his fault. She can’t help her anger, but that doesn’t mean he deserves to have it directed at him. 

The drink is still too warm when she sips it, the heat and alcohol burning her throat, but she takes another sip immediately. It seemed the perfect excuse to duck out of the way when Petrice came towards them, but now she regrets buying it, instead wishing she’d just headed straight back to the cabin. Her heart feels raw and exposed, as if everyone around her can see it cracking and is simply too polite to say anything. 

She runs her finger along her lower lip, letting the memory of the kiss warm her. He was so careful with her, but so insistent at the same time. He held her face as if she was something fragile and precious, and in that moment she felt as if that was true, that she was precious to him. It passed too quickly, but that was likely just as well. No need to linger in the lie of it and take advantage of Sebastian’s need to convince the others of their romance.

Hawke sweeps the rest of the coffee in one go, sucking in a breath through her teeth as it settles in her stomach. She needs cold air on her face and quiet around her, and far fewer eyes potentially watching her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Please come say hello on [my tumblr](http://gremlinquisitor.tumblr.com) if you're there! :)


	7. Chapter 7

Kissing Hawke is everything he imagined and more. Her skin is impossibly soft under his fingers; he could spend hours tracing paths along her face, and more if she would welcome it. Such graces are not his to indulge in, however, and so instead he tries to memorize every detail of this kiss.

Her hand in his, the tilt of her head, the sourceless scent of vanilla that fills his head: All of it seems natural to him, as if this is how it’s always been and how it ought to be. Kissing her is as easy as breathing, even as he has to fight to keep from pushing for more than she wants to give.

Something hot and bright flickers in her eyes when he breaks the kiss to look at her, and for a moment his heart leaps. Ruinous words balance on the end of his tongue, drawn out by her warmth, but they tumble back down his throat at the sound of Petrice’s voice.

Reality slams into place and he pulls away from Hawke as if caught in a far more forbidden act. Petrice’s gaze is icy when she looks from him to Hawke and back, more so than usual. She is not the most benevolent of Sisters, and certainly not the person he would have chosen to interrupt the moment. Apparently Hawke feels the same, slipping away as Sebastian fumbles through pleasantries with Petrice.

“Yes, that was yesterday,” he says, glancing over his shoulder to watch Hawke as she goes. “Lady Hawke didn’t bring skis with her and she’s never used them. Some of the children wanted to try… snow tubing, and it’s something she grew up with. You should try it tomorrow,” he continues. “It was quite exhilarating, and the children loved it. Apparently the slopes are open at night as well, with lights and things.” He sidesteps around how they’d spent the day today, having heard that Petrice prefers to spend her time with the older children on more advanced slopes. He has no interest in hearing her opinion on Hawke learning to ski.

“Sounds like something for the two of you, perhaps. Romantic.” She folds her arms across her chest and fixes him with a glare made more extreme by her tight bun and harsh eyeliner. “Though it would likely be kinder to start letting her down sooner rather than later.”

His brows furrow and he mirrors her pose, settling his weight. “What do you mean, let her down?”

Petrice clicks her tongue and looks past him. “Brother Sebastian. You swore yourself to the Maker and His Bride. You’ve… wandered, it’s true, but you’re coming back. You know, I know it, Elthina knows it. It’s nice that you’ve found someone to entertain you while you make up your mind, but it’s obvious she cares for you. The longer you let this go on, the more you’re going to hurt her.”

“And you expect me to believe that you’re actually worried about Hawke’s feelings?”

“My greatest concern is that you come back to the fold as soon as possible and stop making the Chantry look like we let our clergy play fast and loose with the rules, among other things. Hawke comes from the lowest of Lowtown. Let her sink back down with the rest of the sediment. The water that flows above them will be clearer for it.”

“Hawke is an honorable woman. She follows the Maker, and would never speak ill of others because they came from humble beginnings. Think on your pride, Petrice. Good evening.”

Her eyes widen, and he hears her draw a breath to reply as he turns away. He does not owe her the time or attention that would be required to listen to her. There is nothing more that she can say that would interest him. If she wishes to apologize, she can begin by asking forgiveness of the Maker.

Sebastian scans the bar but Hawke is nowhere in sight. He moves through and around people grouped together, popping onto his toes to try to get a better look. He combs the armchairs and sofas with his eyes, finding plenty of blondes but none of them his.

_ His.  _ The thought warms him even as he pushes it aside. Petrice seemed to think she saw something there, but Hawke is a consummate diplomat and performer. She can make anyone believe anything, as clearly evidenced by the way his heart and body reacted to her kiss.

“Brother Sebastian.” He turns on his heel, gaze dropping to meet a round-faced elven boy holding an enormous mug of cocoa. “Are you looking for Miss Hawke?”

Sebastian chuckles and runs a hand through his hair, embarrassed that his search is so obvious to one so young. “As a matter of fact, I was. Have you seen her?”

The boy nods, most of his attention turned to his drink. “She left a while ago. She looked sad.”

“You should be getting back to rehearsal, young man.” He sets a hand on the boy’s shoulder and steers him towards the rooms beyond the bar. “I will go see to Miss Hawke.”

Sebastian pulls on his hat and gloves as he shoulders his way out of the door. The wind hits him so hard that he has to take a step back before continuing. Snowflakes like pins hit his cheeks and nose, leaving his skin stinging, the cold seeping in as they melt. He squints into the storm but there is no sign of Hawke’s deep red coat in the shadows that fall beyond the golden light pouring from the lodge’s wíndows.

He sets off in the direction of the cabin, fighting to keep from shouting her name as he goes. The snow piles in drifts along the edges of the paths, and if there were footprints before him, they are long since blown away. Panic nips at the edges of his thoughts, even as he reminds himself that Hawke knows the way to the cabin and would not be so foolish as to stay outside in a storm. Guilt about kissing her mingles with guilt about not seeing her leave, guilt about being the reason she left, and he wants nothing more than to see her warm and safe, curled up on the couch in the cabin. 

He reaches the part of the path that curves past the pond that lies beyond the little village, deep into the forest on the way to their cabin. The lodge is far behind him now, little more than a glowing beacon through the blizzard. The lights that would line the path are buried and all but useless. He holds a hand up to try to keep the snow from his eyes and steps off the path towards the pond.

“Hawke!” His first cry is cut short when he trips over one of the lights and falls to his hands and knees in the snow. He’s surprised by the depth, and his stomach drops at the sight of vague indentations that lead away from the path to his left into the darkness of the trees. 

The wind threatens to toss him on his ass when he climbs to his feet, brushing snow from his pants in a useless attempt to clean them. He pulls his phone from his pocket and tugs at his glove with his teeth until his thumb slips free. It takes him three tries to light the flashlight, all while staggering forward in the snow. He recalls hearing from one of the Sisters that the pond is supposed to be used for skating, but that there’d not been enough cold days for it to have frozen properly yet. 

His heart sinks as he steps carefully closer to the edge. Everything is white, the actual edge of the pond blended in among snow drifts, save for a hole that seems to swallow the light of his phone, inky black and jagged.

He sees the hood of a deep red coat, the only part visible above the broken surface of the pond.

“Hawke, no!” His voice is strangled in his throat, and his heart beats against his chest as if demanding to be set free to go to her. He puts his phone back in his pocket with shaking hands and drops to his knees, feeling under the snow for a better indication of where the ground stops and the ice begins.

A series of soft, heavy  _ whumps  _ follow rapidly encroaching darkness as what little light there was from the lodge and cabins disappears. The loss of electricity is audible, and plunges everything around him into near-total darkness, the snow turning a pale blue from the moonlight. 

Sebastian continues to call her name, frustrated as the wind snatches it and carries it away before it can reach her. The lights at the edge of the pond serve as supports where he can hook his feet as he stretches out flat. The ice creaks under him when he moves, and his breath catches in his throat, but he continues. He crawls flat across the ice and fumbles, half-blind with snow whipped into his face. His hand finds hers, one hand stretched out onto the ice, unconscious. When he pulls, she’s heavy in the water, and her fingers make no move to grasp his.

“Come on, Hawke! Stay with me!” He snarls as he brings his other arm forward through a snowdrift to grab at her wrist. The quiet of the night is broken by the sound of ripping fabric. It turns his stomach, even if he knows it’s only her coat and nothing more being torn.

One more heave and her hood and collar are close enough for him to grab. Another pull, this time with his legs to drag them both back from the edge, and she’s out of the water, though still unmoving in the dark. 

Sebastian grabs her under her arms and shuffles both of them towards the shore, the ice groaning treacherously under them as he rushes to get them to solid ground. She is a weight in his arms, horrifyingly uncooperative in his attempts to move her.

She makes a thin noise and coughs when he hefts her up into his lap, but other than that she doesn’t move or show any sign that she’s awake.

Everything she’s wearing is soaked through, and the water finds its way into his gloves and zipper as well, a chill settling in his fingers as he staggers to his feet. There is no one nearby when he looks around. It’s too far back to the lodge; the slope that felt gentle and shallow on the way down looks menacing and unnavigable in the dark, and the storm has turned the resort into a foreign landscape. Even the nearby cabins appear deserted.

He kneels, looping one of her arms around his neck, but she is an unwilling weight against his side, her feet dragging in the snow with no effort made to move herself. Her coat crunches, then squishes when he hefts her up into his arms, her head lolling against his chest inside the wet of her hood. 

It’s not far to their cabin, but the trek feels endlessly long. Sebastian curls himself over Hawke as much as he can to shield her from the wind that cuts into his skin. He continues to talk to her as he stumbles through the snow, listening desperately for any reply. Once or twice he thinks he hears another soft whine from her, but nothing more. 

“Come on, Hawke. Wake up, talk to me.”

The cabin comes into sight, and Sebastian steps carefully up the stairs to the door, leaning heavily against it to hold her steady between himself and the wood while he fishes a key from his pocket. 

He’s met with a welcoming gust of warm air when the door swings inward, and he staggers inside, his legs meting out exactly the energy needed to carry her to the sofa before collapsing under him. Hawke tumbles out of his arms as he falls to his knees at her side, and he gasps to see how pale she is in what little light there is in the cabin. 

The door bangs open behind him, and his legs shake when he rises and crosses the room to close it. The cabin goes quiet, and Sebastian shrugs out of his coat as he returns to Hawke, settling onto the sofa beside her.

“I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” He mutters a litany of apologies under his breath as he starts to strip off layers of wet clothing. Her coat is ruined, the lining visible through slashes left by the ice, though luckily the cuts go no deeper. Sebastian pushes her hands up through the sleeves and lifts her gently to pull the wet garment out from underneath her. She draws a deep breath when he settles her onto the sofa again, and for a moment he freezes, waiting to see if she will wake up on her own. 

When she doesn’t move again, he continues, moving to her feet to strip off boots and wet socks. He hesitates over the waistband of her jeans, hands trembling as he looks from them to her face and back as if waiting for her to wake up and consent.

No such moment comes, and Sebastian closes his eyes as he undoes the button and tugs the wet denim down off her hips and thighs. Her skin is cool to the touch when he pats lightly upwards, making sure what was under her jeans stays where it’s meant to. There’s resistance as he tugs, wet cloth on wet skin making it difficult to get her legs free, but at last the jeans are piled on the floor. 

Sebastian opens his eyes only to close them again immediately. She’s unconscious and vulnerable, and he shouldn’t be seeing her like this when she has no choice in the matter. There are more wet clothes that need to come off as well, but he pauses in his work to turn to the fireplace instead. 

It’s cold and dark, having been put out this morning before they made their way up to the hotel. He takes deep breaths to calm himself as he struggles with the lighter, but after a few moments, flame spring to life in the center and grab eagerly at the dry logs he stacks around them. Already the air in the cabin seems warmer, but when he glances at Hawke he sees no change. 

“I’ll be right back,” he mutters, gesturing to her as he moves away as if he expects her to get up and follow. He takes the stairs two at a time and slides on the polished wood floor in his socks as he makes his way to the bathroom. There’s a pile of towels near the bathtub, and he gathers them up and starts to make his way back downstairs, stopping by the bed to yank the comforter off and drag it behind him. 

The towels and blanket are dumped unceremoniously in a pile near the sofa. Hawke is still unmoving, and Sebastian blushes as he takes a towel and spreads it over her to hide her waist and bare legs. It’s nothing that he might not see at a day at the beach with her, but she’s not been given the choice to show it to him. 

The couch under her is wet, a stain darker than the fabric spreading out around her head and shoulders. Her sweater is soaked, and for a moment Sebastian considers cutting it off of her in order to get her warmer faster, but in the end he manages to pull it over her head, leaving her now in only her bra and panties.

He wraps her in another towel and pauses, brushing her hair back from her forehead. Her brow twitches at his touch, and he’s encouraged to feel that her skin is already warmer under his hand. 

He turns from her long enough to let out a new layer of towels on the chaise lounge end of the couch. It’s closest to the fireplace, but still too far away for the warmth he needs. A quick inspection shows that it can be lifted free of the rest of the sofa, and so he does. The sofa’s feet screech as he drags it across the floor, turning it so that Hawke can lie down directly beside the fireplace. Then he goes back to her, gathering her in his arms. She’s so much lighter without all the wet clothing, and his heart aches as he sets her gently by the fire, slipping a pillow under her head and fanning her hair out to dry. 

There is still no reaction when he gathers her hands in his own, and when he runs his hands along her arms, they are still too cool.

Heat runs the full length of his body in a flush of embarrassment at the thought of what he could do to help warm her quickly. He was told about it, once, in a first aid class in the Chantry, but he never imagined actually having to use it, and certainly not with Hawke.

“Maker’s breath,” he whispers as he looks down at his clothes. It will be warmest with as little as possible between them, skin on skin.

The thought makes him dizzy in shameful and intoxicating ways, and he closes his eyes, shaking his head to try and still his thoughts. 

He turns away from her, shoulders rounded as he strips off his own snow pants and the long thermal underwear he’s wearing underneath them. His sweater follows, and he toys with the hem of his t-shirt for a moment before yanking it over his head and tossing it aside. 

It takes no effort at all to shift Hawke to one side of the sofa, moving her closer to the fire so that Sebastian can lie down beside her. She makes no motion nor gives any sign that she knows he’s there, and his heart sinks like a stone. So many times he’s imagined lying down beside her, the feel of her skin on his, but never like this. 

He sighs as he pulls her close, holding the towels to her front as he presses himself against her back, angling his legs flush against hers. The comforter is on the floor behind him, and after some fumbling he finds it and drags it up to cover both of them. Hawke is shivering now; a good sign, but she is not out of the woods yet. 

“I hope you can forgive me for this when you wake up,” he sighs, settling down on the pillow behind her. His nose rests by the shell of her ear, and he holds her tightly to him, silently begging Andraste to bring her back to him, and to forgive him for his trespasses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Please come say hello on [my tumblr](http://gremlinquisitor.tumblr.com) if you're there! :)


	8. Chapter 8

Hawke floats in and out of consciousness as if on the surface of a choppy sea. When she is above the surface, there is warmth and golden light, the feel of a body pressed against hers. When she slips below again, she finds only cold darkness. 

Every time, she fights to stay in the warmth, turning from the brightness before her to the comforting shape at her side, behind her, always near her and surrounding her, the familiar woody scent of aftershave filling her head.

Her eyes are slow to focus when she finally wakes, the fire dancing in her vision, the snap of an ember unreasonably loud to her pounding head. She is wrapped tightly in the thick comforter from the bed, but she is not on the bed. The couch has been pulled close to the fireplace, and that’s where she finds herself. She blinks slowly and takes a few deep breaths, wiggling her fingers and toes, too tightly packed into her blanket burrito to be able to stretch properly. 

Her body aches, and the memory comes back to her with such force that she gasps. She left the lodge to go back to the cabin, but stopped at the edge of the pond to still her thoughts. A loose stone under her foot slid down into the water, and she followed it, falling headlong through the ice. It wasn’t deep, but the shock of the cold left her floundering and unable to get out. It was so cold, and no one was nearby…

And yet here she is, safe and sound, dry and warm.

And in only her underwear.

And alone on the couch, despite vivid recollections of someone strong and familiar holding her close.

She pushes at the blankets, twisting until she’s loosened them around her enough that she can sit up. Her head swims at the sudden change and she groans, hugging the blanket to her chest.

“Hawke! You’re awake!” Her eyes fall closed at Sebastian’s voice and she smiles to herself, glad to know he’s there even after she abandoned him earlier. Shame rushes in past her joy, however, as she recalls the kiss and how quickly he’d pulled away, then how quickly she’d fled. She’s made quite the mess of it now.

“You should be resting,” he continues, and she opens her eyes again to see him coming out of the little kitchen under the stairs. “Here, have some water, you need it.”

The sofa sinks next to her and she turns to look at him. He’s holding up a glass of water, and she can only nod. He’s right; her throat and mouth are dry when she licks her lips.

“Do you want me to?” He lifts the glass and she considers it, unsure exactly what he means.

Sebastian sets his free hand gently at the base of her neck and steadies her while he holds the glass to her lips. She frowns but accepts the water, hating how helpless she feels. The water is cool on her throat, and she brings a hand up to hold his wrist when he tries to take the glass away.

“Easy now, don’t drink too much.” 

That earns him a frown around the glass as she drinks the rest, then leans back and lets go.

“Thank you,” she mutters, lowering her eyes, too embarrassed to face him.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, ducking his head to try to look at her again. There’s concern in his voice, and her throat tightens to hear it. He is unfailingly kind, even when she’s been rash and overreacted, putting herself in danger. He would have every right to be angry with her for going off along, but she knows he’s not, and somehow that makes it worse.

She shrugs with one shoulder. “Like I’ve been in an avalanche, or hit by a truck or something. But I’m warm and I’m whole, so it must not have been so bad.” She doesn’t tell him she’s embarrassed at leaving him, ashamed of how it hurt to kiss him and be set aside, and she can’t even bring herself to start considering the emotions that well up at the idea that she’s in her underwear because Sebastian was the one who saved her. 

Sebastian says nothing at that, just sighs and looks away.

“I am very undressed, however. Not sure how  _ that  _ happened.” She smiles, wanting to lighten the dark cloud that seems to have settled around them. 

Sebastian’s eyes go wide when turns to her, color draining from his face. “I apologize for that. You were soaked to the skin, and it was all freezing cold. You needed to get warm fast.”

“Is that why you held me while I slept?” Her heart pushes at the bottom of her throat as she asks. What if she dreamt it and nothing like that happened? What if he denies it? What if she’s pushed too far in asking?

Color spreads across his nose and cheeks, and he coughs into his fist. “I… I didn’t think you were aware of that. I apologize for that as well. I only wanted to make sure you were warm.”

“I was,” she replies. “Quite. Every time I woke up, you were there. It was wonderful.”

Her chest aches as the memories return to her. There was warmth, but also safety, security, and a sense of being loved that held such weight that she feels unnaturally light without it now, as if she could float to the ceiling of the cabin, or be carried away through the chimney like smoke.

His weight on the sofa disappears, and when she looks up again he’s gone back to the kitchen with the glass. “Do you remember anything about what happened?” He tosses the question back over his shoulder, but there’s an edge to it that Hawke doesn’t understand.

“Sort of,” she starts, pulling the blanket around her like an enormous shawl. “I was standing at the edge of the pond, and I think a rock slipped under my foot, or I slipped on a rock, or something came loose. I fell. I remember thinking that it was really fucking cold and that I needed to get out of the water, but I couldn’t. My arms got heavy, and then.” She lifts her head to look at him where he’s leaning against the kitchen island. “Then I had some nice dreams, and then I woke up here.”

“What about before that?” He presses. His arms are folded across his chest, one hip pushed out so that his t-shirt rides up on his side. In different circumstances, she would look anywhere but at the strip of golden skin that shows itself there, but she better understands the edge in his voice now, and she can’t bring herself to meet his eyes.

“I wanted to go back to the cabin,” she mumbles, trying and failing to make it sound like an ordinary, nonchalant decision.

“You could’ve asked me, I would’ve gone with you.”

“You were in the middle of a conversation. I didn’t want to be the one interrupting something.” This time it’s her turn to let the hurt seep into her tone. She bites down on it and drops her gaze to the blanket, picking at a loose thread on one of the hems.

“I was talking to Sister Petrice, Hawke.”

“Yes, and you seemed quite excited about it. You were very happy to turn away from me the moment she appeared.” She regrets the words as soon as they’re out of her mouth, but there’s no putting them back. She draws a breath that turns into a sigh. “Of course, I understand, she’s your colleague--”

“I put up with Sister Petrice out of duty most days,” he sighs. “She was the one who interrupted. To have been able to leave with you would’ve been a rescue on your part.”

“That wasn’t how it felt.”

He’s quiet for too long, and when she looks up, he’s frowning at her with creased brows, and his eyes start to search her face as soon as he sees her. “Have I done something wrong?”

She shakes her head. This is on her, not him. She’s the one who fell headlong into a kiss that wasn’t supposed to mean anything. She can’t blame him for not knowing how she would feel afterwards. 

“But something is wrong,” Sebastian continues. “Come on, Hawke. You can talk to me.”

Tears sting at the corners of her eyes, and it makes her head hurt worse. Part of her wishes she could just collapse and go back to sleep to avoid his questioning. Everything she wants to tell him, everything she can’t say, is balancing on the tip of her tongue. If she breathes wrong, she’ll ruin this for him, and that can’t happen.

“I was embarrassed,” she explains, skirting as close to the truth as she can. “Kissing you, and then Petrice showed up, and I know she doesn’t like me, and I just got flustered. I didn’t want my being flustered to make anyone suspicious, so I took off.” She does her best to keep her voice light and casual, but she does pause and meet his gaze. “I’m sorry I worried you. I promise I didn’t mean to, and I promise I really didn’t mean to fall into a pond so that you had to rescue me.”

Sebastian shakes his head. “I would rescue you every day if you needed it. You’re just usually capable of rescuing yourself.” The softness in his voice is tangible, and her eyes fall closed as she all but leans into the feeling of it caressing her cheek. 

She tries to match his smile, but what little energy she woke up with is fast fading. The pounding in her head is taking over and she’s not sure she can keep up the mask of not hurting in front of him for much longer. “I know you would. You’re very sweet. I think I need to get some more sleep, though.”

He’s at her side in three long strides. “Of course, you’ve been through an ordeal. Did you want to stay here by the fire?”

Hawke shakes her head. “No, I’d rather go up to bed. I’ll take this with me.” She shrugs the comforter higher around her shoulders and stands carefully, making sure all of her is covered. I’ll probably be asleep when you come up, so… have a good night.”

She flashes a smile at him as she shuffles past, taking the stairs slowly to avoid tripping on the comforter or missing a step. The sound of something heavy shifting behind her makes her turn at the stop of the stairs. Sebastian is pushing the couch back into place with his shins, a glass of water sloshing precariously in his hands. He sees her looking and smiles, giving a wave that looks almost shy. 

This time it’s easier to smile back at him, but the expression only holds until she turns away, making her way to the bed as quickly as she can. The upper floor isn’t as warm, but she’s grateful for cool sheets and a firm pillow on a real bed. She spreads the comforter out across the bed and stretches out on her back, staring up at the snow-covered skylight. 

She needs to get over this and move on. It’s not Sebastian’s fault that she meant it when she kissed him, nor is it his fault that Petrice turned up and stole his attention. It’s not as if any heartfelt confession was interrupted in the moment, either. Kissing Sebastian was everything she hoped and imagined it would be, but it won’t happen again. It hurts to think of it, but she needs to get over that pain and go back to being Sebastian’s friend. The alternative is to lose him forever, and she’s not sure she could bear that. 

Sleep comes slowly, and when she does finally drift off, she is still alone in the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Please come say hello on [my tumblr](http://gremlinquisitor.tumblr.com) if you're there! :)


	9. Chapter 9

Hawke is a sight somehow both cozy and miserable at the same time. Her small frame wrapped in the enormous blanket is adorable, and he would gladly bundle her into his arms and keep her at his side if he thought she wanted it, but the pain in her eyes goes deeper than a headache. He wants to believe her, that she was embarrassed and nothing more, but he’s not convinced, and it’s so easy to tell himself that her real distress is from how insistent he was when he kissed her.

She makes her way up the stairs to bed and Sebastian starts to put the furniture back in order after his panicked shuffling of things when he came in with Hawke. Her clothes hang on the backs of chairs around the fireplace to dry, and he collects the now-dry towels to set them at the bottom of the staircase. The storm shows no sign of letting up and there is still no electricity in the cabin, so they will be without fresh towels for the foreseeable future.

There’s no sound from the bedroom upstairs, even when Sebastian stays for a moment to listen. Hawke needs sleep; he was elated to see her wake up, but didn’t want to keep her up a minute longer if she felt like she needed to rest again. He stayed with her most of the night, longer than he ought to have, if he’s honest with himself. It was selfish and indulgent, spending hours awake with her tucked in close to his side or curled against his chest. Every dreaming smile and unconsciously seeking hand sent up fireworks inside of him, and he was able to drink in how beautiful and peaceful she was at rest, brushing her hair from her eyes and making sure she kept warm until her body could warm itself again. Leaving her alone on the sofa felt like leaving part of himself behind, but he had no choice in the matter. Apart from his body’s desperation that he tend to its functions, he needed to put some distance between them, and he finds he needs it again, or perhaps still.

The first blue-white traces of morning light appear through the windows at the front of the cabin, diffuse and faint through the falling snow. He dumps of the end of his glass of water in the kitchenette and rummages as quietly as he can until he finds a small metal saucepan. With no electricity, the fireplace will have to serve as stove as well as heat for the cabin. He adds enough water to the pan to make coffee for himself, then sets it as close to the fire as he dares.

He can’t help Hawke if she won’t tell him why she’s hurting. There is nothing he wouldn’t do to help, but he can’t ignore the lingering certainty that he’s the one responsible for her pain, which makes it that much harder for him to repair the damage he did in kissing her so passionately. 

This trip was meant to be fun for both of them, a chance to spend some time together, and they’ve had that, but with the ever-present burden Sebastian placed on them by not coming clean to Elthina when she first misunderstood. More selfishness on his part, to want to spend the holiday with Hawke, and then the mad, awful idea that they should pretend to be a couple. Hawke is a good person and a wonderful friend, and Sebastian is taking advantage of that in order to indulge in a fantasy that will never be real. He should never have asked her to play along, and at the ski lodge he let himself get swept away in the sheer delight of kissing her, and now it’s likely that he’ll leave this cabin having lost his best friend and one of the people he loves most in this world, all because of a foolish desire to play pretend and experience a fraction of what it could be like for them to be together.

His inability to control himself upset her to the point where she left. She couldn’t even stay at the lodge with him, and it almost killed her. Sebastian’s mind draws a straight, razor-sharp line from his kiss to Hawke freezing in the pond. The rational part of him shouts that it was an accident, but even that is muffled by the thought that if he hadn’t wanted so much from her, she would never have been in that position to begin with. 

The windows that make up the front wall of the cabin are cool when Sebastian rests his forehead against one of them. She is expecting him, but he cannot go up to that bed again and share it with her as if everything is fine. When she wakes up, he will start to make this up to her, and he will start by explaining everything. Hawke has a right to understand what she’s been made to be a part of, and she has the right to make up her own mind about what she wants to happen after that. He will go to the lodge and sleep there if she wants, or pay for a room for her if she would prefer not to stay in the cabin. Surely one of the other Sisters can accompany her on the trip home, and he will give her all the time and space that she needs after that. 

He leaves the window and returns to the fireplace, wrapping a towel around the handle of the pan to pull it from the edge of the flames. The water is bubbling and steaming, and hisses when he pours it over the grounds in the press. The smell blossoms up around him, filling his head and helping him to relax. He carries the press and a cup to the coffee table, then settles into the sofa, pulling a book from his bag nearby. It’s morning, and there’s finally enough light to read by, though only just. The wind has died down, but the snow continues to fall with fat, white flakes that filter the sunlight into something that makes no shadows.

The day passes in stillness. Sebastian is careful to move quietly around the cabin to keep from waking Hawke, even when he makes his way to the bathroom beyond the open bedroom. She is curled in on herself under the covers, the pillow he used two nights before clutched in her arms. His side of the bed is empty, the comforter spread smooth as if to punctuate his not being there. He pauses to watch her for a moment, then thinks better of it and continues on, scolding himself for being so sleazy as to stare at her while she sleeps, no doubt believing she’s safe from him for a while. 

There is no hot water, but that is precisely the sort of shower that he needs, and he scrubs while his teeth chatter, sucking in short breaths in lungs that seem to have contracted in the cold. It works to banish the last lingering sensations of her body pressed against his and her breath on his skin. His body’s reaction to that, at least, he had been able to staunch, but it left a treacherous heat in his blood that lasted throughout the day, distracting him from his reading and carrying his daydreams back to time spent with Hawke in his arms, nearly nude beside a roaring fire. In any other context, it might have seemed a dream come true, but the reality was a nightmare, unsure if she was well, if she would be safe in the cabin or needed proper medical attention. Even if she is out of the woods now and sleeping soundly, he is still uncertain what will happen when she wakes up and he explains his feelings to her.

It’s early afternoon when Sebastian hears the sound of movement upstairs: the soft shuffle of blankets tossed aside, the whisper of feet on the wooden floor, the tiny squeak Hawke makes when she stretches her arms over her head. He smiles to himself and sets about making a fresh round of coffee, this time with enough for two. 

He’s setting meat and cheese out on the counter alongside the remains of a loaf of bread when Hawke appears on the stairs, barefoot and dressed in simple grey shorts and the same worn Red Iron tank top she slept in two nights ago. Her hair is still damp, pulled into a loose braid that hangs over one shoulder.

“There’s no hot water?” Her voice turns up in a disappointed questions as she takes the steps slowly. “I mean, after the polar bear swim I did last night, you’d think I’d be fine with it, but I was really looking forward to a hot shower, or even just a warm one. What happened?”

“The power’s out,” Sebastian explains. She must’ve been groggier than he thought last night when she woke up if she didn’t notice the total darkness in the cabin away from the fireplace, and a pang of regret hits him for how he pushed her to make sure she was all right when clearly she was still exhausted.

She looks around, eyes following one of the beams wrapped in a string of dark lights, all the way to the front of the cabin, where the accumulation of snow is visible against the glass. 

“Are we stuck here?”

Sebastian shrugs. “It would appear so, for the time being at least. I don’t think you’re in any condition to make the hike up to the hotel right now, at any rate.” He looks her over as she comes to stand by the counter. “How  _ are  _ you feeling?”

Hawke tilts her head to the side. “Better, I think. No headache anymore. It was good to get some more sleep. What time is it?”

“Middle of the afternoon. It was almost dawn when you went up to the bed,” he explains, pushing the press down into the coffee. There’s a tension between the two of them that has him anxious. He knows what he needs to tell her, but she’s only just woken up, and it would be cruel to upset her more when there’s nowhere for her to take refuge from him.

“Is that why you never came up to bed?” She asks, and even Sebastian can hear that her casual tone is forced. Her eyes flick to his, then back to where she’s slicing bread and sausage to make a sandwich for herself. 

“I thought I’d give you some time on your own,” he mutters, picking up where she left off to cut off a piece of bread for himself. Her apparent disappointment with his staying away is confusing, though it seems to be one more thing he’s done wrong. 

“I really am trapped here with the last gentleman in all of Thedas.” She’s settled into the corner of the couch, tucking her legs up under her, and she smiles at him when she says it, even as there’s still something in her eyes that he can’t decipher. “You could’ve come up to read there, too. I wouldn’t have minded.”

He nods, unsure what to do with her reassurance. “I’m sorry, Hawke.” He sits a bit away from her on the wide sofa, setting the coffee press and two mugs down on the table. 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she replies. “How was your book?”

Sebastian is grateful for her effort to change the subject, and gladly goes along with it. “It’s excellent, a favorite I’ve read before. It’s a very dramatic retelling of the Second Blight. Rather light on facts, but full of character and excitement. You’re welcome to borrow it if you’d like.”

Hawke moves forward to start pouring coffee for both of them. “I might just take you up on that.” She nudges his coffee closer to him, then turns away to look around the cabin. “I have to admit, I didn’t really bring anything for hanging around the cabin. I thought we’d be outside most of the time.”

“There’s a shelf with board games,” he suggests. “I saw it earlier. It might be something more for families, if there are any that stay in cabins like this, but--”

“Do they have Landlord?” she asks, already getting to her feet to go look. Sebastian watches her go through the steam rising from his mug. The coffee is strong and bitter; they used the end of the milk for the cocoa.

“No idea,” he replies, smiling to himself as he listens to her rummaging through the shelf.

“If I tell you know that I’m a terrible loser, will you still want to play with me?” Hawke makes her way back with a stack of colored boxes in her arms. Landlord is at the bottom, with Alphabet and Genius piled on top. 

Sebastian chuckles and nods as he leans forward to clear a place on the coffee table for the games. “I suppose I will have no choice but to let you win every time, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Please come say hello on [my tumblr](http://gremlinquisitor.tumblr.com) if you're there! :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that gives it the explicit rating. If you're only here for the plot, that's just about the first half. Nothing plotty happens once they get started. ;)

The snow shows no sign of relenting throughout the afternoon into evening, but both the weather and lack of electricity fade into the background as Hawke and Sebastian make their way through game after game. Landlord proved to be much less fun when only played by two, each of them showing off as ruthless builders who were then unable to pay the rent they owed each other. 

Hawke is still riding the high of winning two consecutive games of Alphabet, having forced Sebastian to page through the outdated dictionary twice now in search of high-scoring words. The board is set for a game of Genius, waiting on the coffee table while Hawke collects candles and Sebastian slices more bread and sausage for snacks. 

“I have a question.” Hawke emerges from the bedroom with one candle already lit, three more in her other hand. She left one tea light burning in a high dish in the bathroom in case either of them needed it, not quite trusting the skylight to let anything through.

“History, sports, or popular culture?” Sebastian fires back, grinning at her as she makes her way down the stairs. She’s glad to see his smile; he took his losses in Alphabet better than she would have, and whatever it was that left him so closed off earlier seems to have loosened its hold on him during the day. 

For her part, even if she is relaxed, she is still disturbed by her own carelessness and how close she came to a much darker fate. Knowing that Sebastian went to such lengths to save her is embarrassing, but she would also expect nothing less from him. He would sacrifice a great deal to help a friend, even if it meant holding her to keep her warm while she slept. 

“Very funny, but that’s not the kind of question I meant.” She sets the candles around the table and starts to light them. “I’ve been thinking about the kids you brought with you.”

“The Chantry brought them,” he replies, his voice getting closer as he approaches, setting a tray of sandwiches on the sofa behind where he’s been sitting.

Hawke only just stops herself from rolling her eyes when he turns his back. “Well, yes, the Chantry, but are you not a representative of the Chantry?”

“In an unofficial capacity, I suppose I still am.” 

His wording catches her off guard, and she stands slowly, watching him as he carries a saucepan to the fireplace. “There was mulled wine on the counter. I didn’t realize there was anything in the bottle; I just thought it was decorative,” he explains, gesturing to the pan as he sets it near the fire.

“You drink?” Hawke asks, taking a step closer.

“Not often these days, but I do love mulled wine this time of year. I’ve been known to make my own.” He pauses. “But you had a question about the choir?”

She has many questions now, but some of them can wait until she knows how to ask them. “Are they all orphans?”

He tilts his head. “I don’t think so. Not that I know of, anyway.”

That Sebastian doesn’t know is also a worthy topic of conversation, but not one she wants to breach for the moment. “There are way more children here than parents. Where are the rest of their families?”

“Back in Lowtown, I suppose,” he replies, shrugging a little. “Some of them are working, some of them were unable to join us. The Chantry only sponsors the children.”

“So they’re here instead of celebrating Wintersend with their families.” Something cold settles in her at the thought, and when she asks, it’s not a question. “You offer them this adventure, then separate them from their parents for the holiday.”

Something darkens in Sebastian’s eyes, and he looks down, drawing a breath to sigh. “I have to admit I never saw it that way.” He folds his arms across his chest, and she can see his brow is furrowed. “We have a concert for the families as well, the week before we leave, but... “ He shakes his head. “Thank you, Hawke. I’m embarrassed to say I never thought of it as taking them away, I thought--”

“The gesture is good,” she offers. Part of her wants to reassure him, but it’s not a terribly large part. “But it could use some adjusting, maybe so that they come back on the day, or the day before instead. They come back in the evening and open presents with family the next morning, that sort of thing.”

The pan by the fire hisses, and Sebastian turns away to collect it. He pours the wine into glass mugs and carries them to the coffee table, but even as he concentrates on the task, his gaze is distant, turned inward. A pang of regret goes through her; she hadn’t meant to put all this on his shoulders. Sebastian hasn’t personally seen to it that it’s done this way, but someone has, and that means that someone can also change it.

They both settle into the couch in silence, Sebastian looking at his hands while Hawke watches him from nearby. The sweet, spiced scent of the wine blooms around them, and she leans over to take her mug.

“I seem to have ruined the mood again,” she mutters, still not quite wanting to apologize for her questions, but for the way they affected him.

“They’re having their concert right now,” Sebastian replies. He looks up to meet her eyes, then looks past her, out at the snow and the gathering dark. “Happy Wintersend.”

He lifts his own mug in a half-hearted toast, and another bolt goes through Hawke. “Sebastian, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you by asking.” She leans towards him, stretching an arm out along the back of the sofa, not quite close enough to touch.

“Would you rather be in Kirkwall with your friends?” He asks. This time he looks into the fire, and Hawke grows more and more certain that he’s avoiding looking at her, and her heart sinks.

She shakes her head, unsure if he can see it out of the corner of his eye. “I mean, I love them, don’t get me wrong, but I think even the Hanged Man’s closed today, and I don’t think I’d have the energy for their collective efforts to cheer me up. I think this trip’s been just what I needed, dip in the pond not withstanding.”

Hawke takes another deep drink of the wine. The warmth of it spreads into her chest and stomach, and a familiar, awful sort of boldness starts to stir within her. She could tell him how she feels. He thinks she doesn’t want to be there when in reality there’s nowhere else in Thedas she would rather be, except perhaps nearer to him than she is now.

“Even if it means being stuck out here with me?” He asks, turning to her. The firelight and starlight reflected on the snow cast sharp shadows on his face and make his eyes shine, even as it makes his expression difficult to read. “I know I upset you.”

Hawke scoots closer on the couch so that she can set a hand on his shoulder. “It’s nothing, Sebastian. Please, you haven’t done anything, it was just--” She gestures vaguely at herself with one hand, taking it away from his shoulder. “It’s just me in my head, don’t worry about it.”

“But I do,” he replies. “You seemed upset, and then you disappeared. I was worried; I thought I’d done something.” He sighs. “I know the kiss was awkward. I apologize, but--”

“The kiss was fine. It was better than fine, it was…” Her throat tightens and she tucks her chin down, shaking her head. “Please don’t think it was the kiss,” she says, as if anything else could be blamed for the fracturing of her heart inside her chest. 

“I was worried I might have pushed too hard.”

“No, no. It was very good. It felt real.” Her breath hitches and it’s her turn to shift on the couch to look into the fire. “That was why I had to leave. I’m sorry. It just felt so real, and then Petrice showed up and I remembered that wasn’t.”

“Hawke?”

It’s rare to be able to recognize these moments when they appear. There’s hope and surprise in his voice, and when she glances at him, he’s staring back, lips parted and eyes wide in the dark. The room all but sways around her as her mind makes a last effort at restoring balance before she tumbles into a lot of words she won’t be able to take back.

She doesn’t want to take them back. 

“I wanted it to be real. I wanted it to be real and it wasn’t, and it hurt to realize it wasn’t, and I couldn’t be there anymore, so I went out. I didn’t mean to get hurt, though. I just wanted to clear my mind before you came back to the cabin. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” It all comes out in a rush, and she drops her chin, sees her hands making rings in the wine in her mug. 

The sofa sags next to her, and when she glances up, he’s so close. Not touching her, but almost, one leg tucked up under his body where he leans to look at her. “You wanted it to be real?”

She’s trembling again, though not from the cold this time, but from the soft way he looks at her, his eyes moving over her face as if trying to take in every shy, flushed detail. Hawke nods. “I know it’s not. I know this is only because Elthina misunderstood, and I’m so grateful you brought me. I don’t want to make a mess of this, I really don’t.”

“You aren’t, Hawke.” He reaches out to brush her hair out of her eyes and she starts, but he’s gentle with her, cupping her jaw to lift her head even as she stares back at him with wide, nervous eyes. “Or if you are, then we both are. I never would’ve thought you wanted something like that with me.”

“You’re the only one I want.” She huffs out a laugh, relief and joy straining to be released within her, even as she struggles against them. She needs to be sure she understands, and even more sure that he understands. “Getting to pretend has been wonderful, but I didn’t pretend when I kissed you, and I’m sorry.”

His smile lights up the space between them. “Neither did I. When you left, I thought I’d ruined it.”

She shakes her head, her own smile a reflex when she sees his, but still she’s nervous. “I was so angry. It wasn’t fair, to get that moment of exactly what I wanted for so long, and then remember that it wasn’t real. It felt so real.”

“It was,” he breathes. “I want this, too. May I kiss you, Hawke? Really kiss you?”

He’s there as soon as she nods, catching her lips with his own, blue eyes shining as he watches her through his lashes. She leans into the kiss, one hand on his jaw, the other still holding her mug of wine. When she smiles, he smiles as well, his hand moving to the back of her head to cradle her. His tongue sweeps over her lower lip and she answers, letting her mouth fall open and closing her eyes. 

His arm wraps around her and bundles her closer to his chest, taking her wine from her to set it on the table. His kiss is deep but gentle, cautious, as if still unsure that this is what she wants. She presses up into it, tilting her head to better fit their mouths together, and she grins against him when she catches his lower lip in her teeth, pulling softly before letting go. He pulls in a quick breath, chuckling before tightening his grip around her and kissing her again, even deeper this time, his hunger coming closer to the surface.

Hawke runs her hand along his jaw then continues down, tracing the lines of his throat with her fingers. She moves up again, drawing the shell of his ear and relishing the shudder he gives in response to the sensation. He tastes like cinnamon and oranges and wine, and his hand is warm at the base of her neck. Everything about him is warm, and she wants to be closer to him, to feel more of that heat on her skin.

But she can’t. Not yet.

“Sebastian.” She pulls away, leaning back when he follows. “I want this. I know you do, too, and I’m elated, I’m not sure I’m not still dreaming. But you took a vow before I even met you, and I won’t be the one to help you break it.”

He’s shaking his head before she’s even done speaking, and her heart drops. Sebastian’s vow is too important to him for her to presume to put herself ahead of it. If he won’t remember it in the moment, then she will do it for him, even if it costs her this.

“You don’t have to, Hawke. I thought you understood, I thought…” He sighs. “I broke my vows and went from the Chantry when my family was killed. Putting out a bounty, seeking vengeance, I couldn’t do that and continue in the role of Brother. For as long as you’ve known me, I’ve been a layman.”

The explanation makes sense, but she pushes, needing to be absolutely sure. “But you live at the Chantry. You work there, and the way you live your life?”

“It’s all I’ve known for years, so I continued on as I was.” He shrugs, smiling a little as if caught off-guard by her questions. “I couldn’t go back to the way I lived before. I think everyone, including me, expected me to go back to the Chantry sooner or later, so I was allowed to stay and continue my work.”

“Will you go back?” The question sticks in her throat. Whatever they have between them is only minutes old, perhaps far too early for such discussions, but this is too important for her to wait to ask.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Until today, until now, I had no idea there was any other option for a future. I’m still not sure if there is--we don’t have to decide anything today--but for the first time, I’m considering going in a different direction. And until I make that decision, my body is my own, as is my heart.” He clears his throat. “I mean, if that was what you were asking. I don’t mean to be so blunt, I just--”

“That is exactly what I was asking,” she replies, leaning in to kiss him again. “I don’t want to be something you have to ask forgiveness for.”

“Never,” he whispers into her mouth.

The last of her fear and uncertainty falls away as she moves to him, his hands finding her hips and guiding her into his lap. She straddles his thighs but keeps a little space between them, still unsure how far he intends for this to go. If he changes his mind, she would rather it before things go too far.

He kisses her again, and she kisses him, each of them taking their time with the other. She wants him already, and every brush of his fingers and lips against her skin warms her, softens her. 

Sebastian slides his hands up her back and she arches under his touch. He breaks the kiss to move down along her jaw to her collarbone, then dips lower still, his lips brushing against the peak of her nipple through her t-shirt. Hawke whimpers, her hips jumping when he presses his tongue flat against the thin cotton, then mouths at her breast again. He slides his hands along her back again, this time under the hem, seeking out more skin and more contact.

“Is this all right?” He whispers, and Hawke nods, pulling away enough to help him strip it off the rest of the way. 

His hands trace up her sides again, and this time when he brushes the tip of his nose over her nipple there is nothing between them. Again he teases with his tongue, gives soft, damp kisses only to follow with a drag of teeth that sends a shiver through her. His breath leaves a trail of heat on her skin when he moves from one breast to the other, his hand coming to replace his mouth. His touches are more eager, palming and grasping, the rough pad of his thumb coaxing her nipple to hardness again. There is no aggression in it, but the certainty and need that radiate from him are enough to leave her reeling, willing to give him anything he wants. 

His free hand slips lower on her body, fingertips trailing down her back again, his hand forming to her hip to pull her closer. She sighs and shifts in his lap, the inside of her thigh brushing against an unmistakable bulge as she settles on top of him again. Knowing that he wants her does nothing to cool the desire that blooms in her belly, and she combs her fingers through his hair, bending down to kiss him again. She shifts her hips once, almost experimentally, and is rewarded by a stuttering breath pushed out into her mouth as Sebastian pulls away. His eyes are dark and glassy in the golden glow of the firelight.

“I don’t want to do anything you’re not prepared to do,” she whispers, making sure he’s looking into her eyes. This is too important to her for him to think he has to go further than he’s comfortable with.

“Hawke I--” He lets go of her hip to take her hand, twining their fingers together before he brings her hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “I came on this trip prepared for nothing, for days where I would only pretend to be living in a joy I’ve dreamt of for so long now. I want you, but it’s been a long time since I was with anyone.”

“Promise me you’ll tell me if we’re going somewhere you’re not ready for. Promise me, Sebastian.”

“You have my word, Padi.” He whispers the words against her knuckles as he kisses them again, kisses the inside of her wrist, her arm, her elbow, continuing up as he holds her hand, pulling her closer to him until he’s mouthing kisses on the side of her neck, his breath hot in her ear. 

She encourages him with a hand in his hair, the other one on the side of his neck, tracing down along the line of his shoulder and bicep. This time when she moves her hips, it’s deliberate, and he groans, his hands finding her hips again, holding her when he rocks up, pressing his arousal against her. It’s enough sensation to tease her, but it only leaves her wanting more. He does it again and she whimpers, grinding down on him in a futile effort at relief, but instead she aches more. 

Sebastian drags his fingers over her stomach, past her navel, stopping only at the line of her shorts. She nods, breathes a yes as her fingers tangle in his hair. She needs to be touched, needs him to touch her, however he wants. It will be enough.

He slips his hand under the waistband of her worn flannel shorts and she lifts just enough for him to be able to reach where she wants his fingers to go. His first touch is so light it almost tickles, a combination of relief and excitement bubbling up as a laugh in her throat. For a brief moment Hawke’s skin goes hot with embarrassment as she considers how wet she already is, but the thought is banished when Sebastian finds it and groans, leaving her breast to rest his head on her chest. 

“Hawke.” His voice is strangled and rough, but she’s never heard her name spoken with such wonder before. She hums a reply and shifts her hips, encouraging him to continue.

Sebastian presses his fingers against the fabric of her underwear, rubbing and pulling, and Hawke fights to keep herself from pressing down against his touch. She wants more, they both do and she knows it, but every new sensation is electric and vibrant and she wants to savor them all before moving on to the next, and doesn’t doubt that he’s the same.

His finger drags through coarse hair, her underwear hopelessly misarranged already from their previous efforts at contact. Her hips twitch at the promise of  _ more, soon  _ but he pauses. 

“May I?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” she sighs in reply. 

There’s a moment of fumbling as he pulls his hand back, but then he’s in under her panties as well, his touch still so excruciatingly soft as he traces her folds, draws his nails gently through her hair and learns the lines of her body by touch alone. 

Then he’s there, fingers slipping into the wet heat, and even if she’s the one being stroked, his hips jump in response, and he moans against her collarbone, all his lingering kisses forgotten as he focuses his attention on touching her. She rolls her hips and he follows along, fingertips brushing over her entrance before moving away, teasing at that most sensitive point, sending sparks skittering through her with every soft circle and needy pressing curl of his fingers against her.

Hawke bends down, guiding him with her hand to let his head fall to one side. She kisses his lips, his jaw and cheek, trying to memorize the difference in sensation from the softness of his lips to the scratch of his stubble to the smoothness of the hot skin of his neck. She thrills at the sound he makes when he catches his earlobe gently in her teeth. All the while he touches her, long strokes that she mirrors with her own body.

“Do you want me to touch you?” She whispers.

“Yes,” he replies, his voice ragged and low.

She’s done this before, but with Sebastian she hesitates, nerves she hasn’t felt in years stilling her hand before she starts. He presses up into her hand when she touches him, his head falling onto the back of the couch as he sighs. She makes a soft, haphazard sort of stroke, her hand turned the wrong way for her to be able to wrap her fingers around him, but he responds nonetheless, and she’s encouraged.

“You will tell me if you want me to stop?” She reminds him, her fingertips curled inside the waistband of his sweatpants.

“I do _not_ want you to stop. _Please_ ,” he answers, and that’s all the reassurance that she needs.

He’s hot under his clothes, damp with sweat when she wraps her hand around him. He’s bigger than she imagined, a thought that sends a flush through her at the thought of how it would feel to have him inside her, all her fantasies adjusting to this new information. She strokes slowly, matching the pace he’s setting with his hand between her legs. The tip of his cock is slick when she pulls his foreskin back, and he groans shamelessly when she swirls the pad of her thumb in it.

“We can just do this if you want,” she breathes. She knows she could take him apart with only her hands, and doesn’t doubt he could do the same to her. Just the thought of what they’re already doing together is enough to bring her closer.

But Sebastian shakes his head, panting out soft  _ nos _ as he starts to move, pulling his hand out of her shorts to instead start working them down off her hips. “I want you, I want more, I don’t--” “I’m not arguing. I’m just checking,” she says, lifting enough to slide the rest of her clothes off. In the moment when she stands to let them fall to the floor, Sebastian strips off his t-shirt and drops it beside her, then hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants before pausing and looking at her.

“Padi, you’re beautiful.”

He pushes his sweatpants down gracelessly, moving to sit on the edge of the couch with her standing between his knees. He ghosts his hands up the backs of her thighs, pulling her close enough for him to kiss. He drags his lips over her stomach, pressing reverent kisses to the puckered silver scar that refused to heal properly after her battle with the Arishok. She’s never been self-conscious about it, but it’s also rarely on show, and she squirms at the attention, carding her fingers through his hair.

He leans back on the couch again, eyes roaming over her as she follows, kneeling over him. 

She wants to go slow, tells herself to when he’s there, that first insistent pressure against her body. Sebastian grips on her hips tightens, his fingertips pressing into her skin as he all but squirms underneath her, and he catches his lower lip in his teeth when his tip rubs against her. Hawke rolls her hips, eager to feel more of him against more of her, eager to take in the way the lump in his throat shifts as he tries to swallow. 

Her gaze moves lower and she pauses. On the left side of his chest, a familiar sun and all its ray blazes up at her in red and gold with black shading around it. She drags her fingers over it gently, as if expecting it to be hot, or rough, or still painful to him.

“Ah, that, yes.” He tips his head forward to look at where she’s tracing the tattoo. “I got it years ago, when I was sure the Chantry was my path, but before I took my vows.”

He takes her hand away from it and brings it to his mouth, kissing the pads of her fingers. “I don’t regret it, I never will, but I will not regret this either.”

She flushes at his words, as if he could read the doubt that darkened her thoughts at the sight of the symbol on his chest. They want each other, and he is a free man to do as he chooses. 

It is the sweetest sort of ache, the first flush of real relief to feel him inside her, and she sinks down into his lap in one motion, taking him in deep. For a moment they’re both still, his hand on her hips and her hand on his chest, the others still joined between them. His eyes burn when he looks at her, mouth slightly open and chest heaving under her touch. 

He wraps one arm around her to pull her closer to him and she goes, hands gripping the back of the couch for leverage as she moves, setting a rhythm that Sebastian matches with his own thrusts. His other hand moves deep into the crease of her hip, his thumb caught between them, teasing at her clit.

Fire coils tighter and tighter in her, her hair falling like a veil around them both when she tips her head forward. His breath is warm on her chest, his nose and lips brushing against her skin in half-attempted sloppy kisses, neither of them still enough to devote that sort of attention to the other. Both of them are damp with sweat, and she shivers when a bead runs down her spine, but doesn’t stop.

“Sebastian, please,” she whines, her throat dry as she gasps. “I need-- I’m so--”

“Come for me, Padi.”

She comes with a whine that drops to a moan as sensation rocks through her, waves rolling out as her body tightens around him. He is not long after, growling where his face is pressed into her breastbone, his hand raking down her back. 

“Don’t stop,” she pleads as her orgasm continues, the pressure of his thumb combining with the feeling of him inside her to send pulse after pulse of ecstasy through her. He keeps going, even as his own energy starts to fade, until she is satisfied, her body too sensitive. She giggles as she guides his hand away, falling forward to lean against him, her head resting in the crook of his neck.

Both of them are still again, this time languid and relaxed, all the tension between them passed. Hawke follows the rise and fall of his chest while he traces designs on her back with his fingers. They can’t sleep here; maybe there was a time when she could’ve fallen asleep resting on her knees with no consequences, but those days are behind her. Nonetheless, she is reluctant to move, as if changing position or speaking will end the dream she’s currently living. 

She nuzzles the side of Sebastian’s neck, and he turns and kisses her. The motion and action are as natural as breathing, as if this wasn’t something they only started doing today. 

“If I go to bed again, will you come with me this time?” She whispers.

One corner of his mouth curls up into a half-smile and he nods. “Yes. Now that we’re here, I don’t want to be further from you than this for as long as possible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Please come say hello on [my tumblr](http://gremlinquisitor.tumblr.com) if you're there! :)


	11. Chapter 11

Years of early Chantry mornings have conditioned Sebastian to wake up promptly, and today is no exception. He comes to and opens his eyes, and freezes in place.

Hawke is curled up on her side next to him, her back pressed to his chest. She’s holding his hand where his arm is wrapped around her, their legs are tangled together, and there is not a stitch of clothing between them. 

“Maker’s breath,” he mutters to himself, terrified for an instant before memories of the night before flood back to him. Skin, sweat, kisses and so much more, before they both collapsed into bed together, still wrapped around each other as they fell asleep.

There will be things that they will need to talk about after this, but it doesn’t need to happen immediately. One night is no guarantee of a future together, even if Sebastian is already certain that he wants that with her. They will have time to decide, to learn what it’s like to be together, if that’s still what she wants.

The nerves that were conspicuous in their absence the night before flutter inside him as he leans over and brushes his lips against the shell of her ear. 

“Good morning, Padi.”

She stirs, pressing back against him and squeezing his hand when she stretches. If she feels any of the same surprise or panic that he did upon waking, it doesn’t show as she slowly blinks awake.

“Good morning, Sebastian.” She brings their joined hands towards her face, then stops. “I didn’t… dream last night, did I? Did that really happen?”

He chuckles, nodding. “It did. Or if you dreamed it, then I did as well, and that in itself would seem significant.”

She smiles, completing the motion to bring his hand up and kiss his knuckles, but her expression falters. “And how are you feeling about what happened?”

It’s a fair question. He’s not been awake long, either, but he doesn’t need a lot of time to think about his answer. “I feel good about it. I’m glad it happened. I’d like it to happen again, soon if possible.”

This time it’s Hawke’s turn to laugh, and the flush on her cheeks spreads down the side of her neck. Sebastian is glad to see her a little more relieved, and he tucks his face into the crook of her neck and kisses her warm skin.

“I feel content, more than I have in a long time,” he murmurs. “I don’t regret it, and I look forward to getting back to civilization so that I can take you to dinner and we can talk more about it, about us.”

“Us.” She nods. “I like the sound of that.” 

They’re quiet together under the covers, Sebastian ghosting soft kisses along the skin of her neck and jaw. If she is interested, he wouldn’t say no to a morning in bed together, but there are unfortunately more pressing matters to consider, including the fact that they’re meant to be going home today.

“Do you think we have hot water again?” Hawke asks, her voice soft and sleepy.

Sebastian shrugs. “Only one way to find out. You want to start, and I can go see what’s left for breakfast?”

There’s more nodding, followed by whining and Sebastian’s arm taken hostage when he tries to leave the bed. His heart soars at the sensation, Hawke holding on and not wanting him to leave her side. He snuggles down against her side, freeing his hand from hers to trace lines along her stomach and hip under the blankets. It’s all he’s wanted for so long, and now he has it. It’s not as if he actually wants to leave the bed, either, but there are some things that need to be attended to. 

“Hawke,” he sighs. She’s gone still next to him, and he’s not sure she’s awake until she smiles at her name.

“Five more minutes.” She fumbles after his hand again, but he’s already slipping away, warmed against the cold of the room by her soft sounds of protest.

“We can always go back to bed later if we have time. Keep that in mind while you’re in the shower,” he suggests.

It’s another new moment for him, when he tosses back the covers and stands. Being naked with Hawke the night before - and even now this morning - was less exposed, and he fights to keep himself from running to his bag to dig out a fresh pair of boxer briefs and a t-shirt. Hawke’s wolf whistle sends a thrill of pride through him, even as he shakes his head while he walks to the landing at the top of the stairs.

There is no mistaking what went on the night before based on the evidence strewn across the living room. Hawke’s t-shirt is crumpled on the sofa; Sebastian’s sweatpants and underwear are in a pile on the floor. The board game is exactly where they left it, along with two half-glasses of mulled wine. He takes in each piece before his gaze moves to the windows and the snow outside, movement catching his eye.

A yellow and black Snowcat is parked by the foot of the stairs to the cabin, and a man in a Chateau Haine coat is climbing out.

“Hawke, we have company.” His skin goes hot then cold at the thought of some stranger coming in to find the remnants of last night spread out across the furniture. He doesn’t regret it, but that doesn’t mean he wants hotel staff as witnesses to it.

Hawke makes a confused noise behind him. He glances at the man again, then leaves the railing to go back to his bag, now wanting jeans and possibly a sweater over what little he’s currently wearing.

“Someone from the resort,” Sebastian explains as he dresses. “They’ve finally sent someone to dig us out.”

“Maker’s breath. That’s timing for you.” Everything about Hawke changes, from the sweet, sleepy girl in bed beside him to the woman he knows so well. She’s already putting her hair up into a bun when she gets to her own bag, digging out clothes and dressing.

“I’ll go down and--”

“You go down and--”

They both stop, laughing a little and nodding. “I’ll go clean up what I can,” Sebastian offers. “Looks like we’ll have to wait to find out about the hot water.”

He catches her eyes and she smiles at him, and he reaches out to cup her cheek, pulling her in for a quick kiss before he hurries down the steps.

It’s a complicated dance, trying to gather laundry into a discreet pile while waving to the man outside. Cleaning up the game and wine will have to wait; for now, Sebastian is satisfied to have their underwear out of view of strangers.

“Blessed Wintersend!” The man offers when Sebastian opens the door. “You must be Mister Vael. My apologies for us getting to you so late. What with the holiday, we haven’t had a lot of staff.” He leans to one side, then the other, inspecting quickly past Sebastian. “Everything been all right here?”

Heat flares across Sebastian’s cheeks as he nods, hands folded behind his back. There’s no need to tell them about Hawke’s accident. “It’s been cold, and quiet, but otherwise we’re all right.”

“I don’t suppose he could turn the hot water on so we can shower before we leave?” Hawke calls from the top of the stairs. 

The man sighs, shaking his head. “Blasted heater goes out in this cabin all the time. I apologize. It’s not a long time to fix, but the Revered Mother was quite insistent that we get you back as soon as possible.”

Sebastian nods in agreement. The idea of a hot shower is incredibly tempting, but the idea of sitting and waiting while Hawke goes, then leaving her to wait while goes, all while a resort employee stands by, seems more trouble than it’s worth. 

Hawke huffs a breath, stomping down the stairs with their bags in tow. 

“If you’ll excuse me, we just need too--” Sebastian gestures to the clothes on the sofa, and Hawke’s jeans and coat still hanging by the extinguished fireplace. The man nods and turns, strolling not quite impatiently along the windows at the front of the cabin.

WIth the rest of their clothes collected, it’s a short but cramped ride back to the main hotel. Hawke protested when Sebastian tried to give her his coat to use since hers is ruined, and they eventually settled on her taking one of his zip up sweaters as a compromise. The Snowcat had only just enough room for all their things, but it did afford a breathtaking view of the resort and mountains once they clear the path from the forest.

Every rough edge is smoothed out, the mountains looking less perilous, and the cabins by the hotel looking more like proper gingerbread houses, or cakes piled with frosting. The forest is almost entirely white with only a few deep shadows, and huge swathes of space are untouched, the snow soft and glittering in the sunshine.

The Snowcat stops outside the hotel. There’s a small fleet of them off to one side, but most of them are covered in snow, a testament to what the man who rescued them mentioned earlier about the lack of people to help during the holiday. Sebastian helps Hawke climb down before shouldering their bags. He gives the man a nod of thanks, then sets off towards the busses with the Chantry symbol painted on the side. Mother Elthina’s voice carries through the still, bitterly cold air.

“I don’t want to go back yet,” Hawke mutters, bumping her shoulder against Sebastian. “Other than no hot water, I would’ve gladly stayed there another week with you, at least.”

“And I with you,” he replies, glancing over at her and smiling. He never wants to get used to the feeling that comes when he sees her looking at him with such warmth. 

“I’ve only just gotten you and now I have to give you back to the Chantry,” she sighs.

Sebastian draws a breath, pausing their way towards the busses. “Please don’t see it that way.” He reaches out and catches her hand, turning her to face him. “This will be a longer conversation than we have time for now, but I want to be clear. With you, I see for the first time a path that I could walk that  _ isn’t _ staying with the Chantry. You’re under no obligation to stay on that path with me, but when I look at you, I see the possibility of a different life.”

For a moment she just stares up at him, her mouth slightly open, nose and cheeks pink with cold. Her breath comes out as a cloud in front of her when she laughs, shaking her head. “Sebastian. Dearest Sebastian. I meant for now, as in today. You’ll have to help them with the kids when they get back, and you’ve been gone for days. But,” she continues, squeezing his hand, “what you said was very sweet, and I would like to walk on that path with you as well.”

Fear melts to elation again, and he follows along at her side as they make their way to the van they drove up. It’s already loaded with supplies, waiting only for their bags, and the driver.

“Sebastian, it’s so good to see you! Are you well?” Mother Elthina steps carefully along the icy parking lot to meet them. “We were so worried when you missed the concert, but with the storm, I suppose you couldn’t get out.”

He shakes his head. “I’m afraid not, but we’re fine. Just tired, and could do with a hot bath.”

She looks from him to Hawke and back with a look that is disturbingly sly and knowing. It’s uncomfortable to see on her face. “Well,” Elthina replies, “I’m sure Lady Hawke will be able to provide once you’re back in Kirkwall.”

There’s a sputtering beside him when Hawke tries and fails to formulate a reply, and Elthina’s smile is even more knowing as she turns and drifts away again. He waits until she disappears around the side of the bus, then leans down and presses his lips to Hawke’s ear.

“What do you say, Lady Hawke? Would you like to bathe me?”

He feels her nod more than he hears a reply, only a strangled indication in the affirmative that leaves him proud and almost jittery with excitement. He sets a peck on her cheek and steps away, opening the passenger side door to the van. “Shall we, then?” He asks.

Hawke’s cheeks are bright red when she moves past him and climbs into the van. He hurries around to the other side and hops up into the driver’s seat, breathing a sigh of relief when the van starts without issue.

“Are you going to be this incorrigible all the time now?” She asks. When he glances at her, she’s looking away, but smiling, hands folded in her lap.

“If you like it, I could try. I’m not sure I’ll be good at it,” he concedes, eyes going to the road as he follows the busses out of the parking lot.

“That was-- I mean, that was a good start, what you said. Wow.” There’s a mix of amusement and wonder in her voice, as if she’s been kind enough to forget all the things he’s told her of his past before going into the Chantry. 

It will be a challenge, learning to be with someone again, but there is no one he would rather do this with than Hawke. 

“I’ll keep that in mind. Blessed Wintersend, Hawke.”

She sets a hand on his arm and squeezes, and out of the corner of his eye, Sebastian sees her relax in her seat.

“Blessed Wintersend indeed, Sebastian.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time to read this! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Please come say hello on [my tumblr](http://gremlinquisitor.tumblr.com) if you're there! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Please come say hello on [my tumblr](http://gremlinquisitor.tumblr.com) if you're there! :)


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